


Graced and Graceless

by FeyNWiddershins



Series: A Matter of Perspective [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Allusions to Drug Abuse, Character Development, Character Study, Death and Grief, Delusions, Denial and Repression, Dissociative Identity Disorder (debatable), F/M, Family Fluff, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Jefferson's Life-shaped Rollercoaster, Loss, Madness, Mania and Depression, Minor Violence, Parenthood, Pregnancy, Psychological Trauma, Regret, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-03
Updated: 2014-06-24
Packaged: 2018-02-06 00:43:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 66,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1838113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeyNWiddershins/pseuds/FeyNWiddershins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Becoming a father changes most men, Jefferson is no different. Sadly, that is not the only change in store for him. Loss and betrayal take a darker toll as does losing one's head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. My Love

**Author's Note:**

> If "Hopeful", Part One of this series, explored Jefferson's ability to slow down and stop running away, this Part shows how he came to start running towards things. Unfortunately, the light-hearted action-romance of Part One is not consistent throughout and again Jefferson's life takes an unexpected turn, decidedly for the worse.  
> This gets a good deal darker in the last few chapters and explores his mental anguish and spiritual trauma following two severe losses.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Actions have consequences...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Following the mildly slow-burn first part, this second one opens up with a bang and a great deal happens rather quickly, a little like what'll happen in life sometimes. But if it feels rushed that would be why: things sometimes come in an avalanche, in my experience, and even when they don't the time around big events can feel crumpled together like an accordion. You look up and wonder where it went. Anyway, be ready for an assault of pregnancy tropes.

Hope was fairly certain Jefferson had drifted to sleep before she said it, but the fact that she'd called him 'my love' left her anxious. Anxious and a little lighter, like she'd gotten a secret off her chest. It was thrilling, she found, to say it, though only when she thought he couldn't hear her, or only barely. For a week she said it to him as he drifted to sleep, as a muttered sigh, a whisper above his heart.

 

"My love."

 

He never mentioned it if he heard her. Maybe he knew it wasn't to be commented upon or perhaps he truly didn't hear her. They slept together every night from that one on. Hope basked in the way he folded around her in sleep, loved waking up wrapped in his arms, flushed when he was found wanting her even in sleep. Her favorite moments though were when he was just drifting to sleep or just waking. He had a special grin for those moments, the last he looked at her or first he found her next to him. That grin tested her resolve to save her secret for his unconscious ear.

 

Several weeks later, on a morning after a particularly stressful trip inside the hat, Jefferson actually woke before Hope. She missed the waking grin, but didn't notice. The morning was a gentle one, the light from the rising sun not streaming through the curtains so much as wafting. Hope woke warm and comfortable but different. Jefferson was moving beside her, tangling his fingers in her hair. He was also muttering something.

 

It was clearly a private conversation, one with himself, so Hope kept still, tried to drift back to sleep. But she couldn't. She heard every word. They were cute at first, he was scolding himself for some little flubs on the trip, a glib word he shouldn't have slipped. Then, he stopped addressing himself. He was talking to her. Not really, he didn't know she could hear him, but 'Hope' was definitely on his lips.

 

"You almost fell off that cliff, you foolish woman. Made my heart jump into my throat. How could I have paid you back for everything if you fell off that cliff? My love. Oh. Damn it, Jefferson. You did it, didn't you?" His hand moved higher to the hair resting on her back, he smoothed his fingers over her skin and made her shiver.

 

"Hope?" He asked gently against her neck. "Hope. The sun's up. You never sleep past the birds."

 

She hummed as he ran his lips over the rim of her ear. "I'm up."

 

"No. You're sleeping. Since when do you sleep longer than me?"

 

"Since… I don't know." She was trembling with the secret that was not hers or his anymore. He had heard her and she had heard him, yet neither had admitted it. Swallowing the fluttering that caused, she rolled onto her back then into his chest. "Good morning."

 

"Mm-hmm. Are you feeling alright?"

 

"I feel fine, yes. Better than fine. Why do I get up so early? This is so deliciously comfortable." Hope nuzzled into his shoulder, sighed as he wrapped his arms about her waist.

 

"That's always what I thought. Do you not want to see the dawn-blooming flowers today?"

 

"Oh, I've seen them many times already. I know where they hide. Mmm, you smell like cinnamon."

 

"That's from your cake you bought. I'm sweating spices, I guess." He nudged her nose away, smelled for himself. "I don't get that though."

 

"Maybe your nose is broken." Hope reached up and tapped him on the tip of said broken part. "Because I smell it."

 

"Maybe-- wait, where are you going?"

 

Hope was crawling slowly to the edge of the bed. "Downstairs."

 

"Why? I thought you were enjoying this. _I_ was."

 

"I'm hungry."

 

"No. Come back. Food can wait. After yesterday, I don't want to leave this bed for at least a day."

 

"Jefferson…" she warned, freeing her wrist. She really was hungry. "I'll just grab a bite and come back up."

 

He splayed over the bed after her, jumping up when she started picking up clothing. "No, no, no. No clothing. If you put clothing on you're not coming back to bed. I know you."

 

"Fine. No clothing." Hope dropped her chemise and padded from the room in naught but her skin.

 

The windows in Jefferson's house were somewhat big, but she didn't feel exposed. No one came this way. So she tiptoed quickly around his kitchen gathering pecans here, dried beef there, some cheese, some grapes. Another piece of cake. She was famished. Maybe some dried beans too, and a boiled egg. With all that packed into a table cloth she climbed the stairs back to Jefferson, who she found spread languidly over the bed.

 

"You came back."

 

"I did. Move over." Hope shoved his leg lightly and then sat down, laying out her breakfast bonanza on the bed.

 

Jefferson took one look at her spoils and quirked an eyebrow at her. "This is… different."

 

"I suppose," she shrugged and tucked into it, cheese in one hand, boiled egg in the other.

 

"Do you have enough?"

 

Hope looked down. It was maybe quite a lot of food. "I don't know…" she answered defensively. "I'm hungry."

 

"Yes, you said that. Now I see it."

 

"Don't tease me, Jefferson. I'll go straight downstairs, clothing on and all."

 

"No, not teasing. Just observing. May I--"

 

She shooed away his hand. "If you want some you can go get it."

 

"Fine." He pulled a face at her and then strolled from the room, returning with a muffin.

 

"Oh, I forgot about the muffins! Did you bring me-- thank you." She accepted the second pastry and sat back grinning.

 

"Did I wear you out last night?"

 

"Not especially," Hope answered after thinking back for a second. It had been about as tiring as normal.

 

"Perhaps we should take a longer break. Allow you to recover," he teased and laid his head into her lap.

 

"Maybe," Hope responded, not really thinking about it. She was counting in her head. "How long have I been here, Jefferson?"

 

He drew a deep breath, clicked his tongue. "Oh, I'd say about two months."

 

That confirmed the count she'd arrived at.

 

"Why?"

 

"Oh…" she didn't really know how to respond, it was not something she'd ever experienced. But 'why' was very clear to her now. She hadn't had her flux since before leaving Wonderland.

 

Her sustained silence made Jefferson sit up. "What is it?" His eyes searched for hers, were so bright a blue in the morning sunlight they almost hurt to look at. He blinked back at her once and then sat away, mouth dropping open, eyes comically large.

 

Hope swallowed. He'd figured it out, probably. It would be easier to say now. "I… I haven't…" Easier, not easy. "I haven't had my flux here."

 

He nodded quickly, so hard his hair bounced. "You haven't."

 

"Yes, well… I don't have to tell you what that means."

 

This time he shook his head. "No. No you don't."

 

Hope felt her heart in her ears. She drew as deep a breath as she could and offered a weak smile. "I think we're going to have a child."

 

She felt fear, but nothing compared to the terror on Jefferson's face. He swallowed and Hope watched his voice box bob. His eyes hadn't returned to normal size yet, they were stuck wide open.

 

"Say something, Jefferson," Hope had to demand eventually.

 

He opened his mouth like a fish, didn't manage any actual words.

 

"I'll find a midwife in the village. She'll be able to tell me for sure, but it's been over two months. In my world that's as sure a sign as any."

 

Jefferson nodded but kept staring at her wordlessly, at her face, then her breasts, then her stomach and back again.

 

"I know you're scared, but you mustn't be this shocked, honestly, Jefferson. We've hardly been avoiding it. And the cradle…"

 

"I'm not scared," he finally said, unconvincingly albeit, but audibly. "And I'm not shocked. I'm just… processing the news. I should have-- you… you ate that horse meat yesterday, you said you'd never eat horse meat. And the sleeping… and then you were sick after the hat. I thought it was the horse meat…"

 

At this point he'd pushed his hair so far back from his face that he was starting to pull the skin. Hope reached up to take his hands.

 

"Shh, shh, shush, now. Yes. I should have realized as well. Especially me. I suppose I was enjoying myself too much to notice."

 

His face looked so childlike as he looked up at her. "What if the Queen finds out?"

 

A bolt of terror shot down Hope's spine. What would the Queen do if her next-in-line heart-slave had a child that would keep him from performing his talent? The thought made her sick. Literally sick. She jumped up and ran down the hall, only making it to her herb basket she kept in her room. Jefferson followed her quickly, held her shoulders and her hair as she retched.

 

"We'll keep it secret," he told her, his voice finally firm again. "I can make a deal with Rumpelstiltskin to conceal it when it starts to show. It'll be secret."

 

Hope couldn't respond in that moment, but if she could have she would have told him it was a stupid idea. She didn't have a chance. As he tended to do, especially when his name was said at inopportune moments, the imp appeared on her bed the second her vomiting ceased. Jefferson flipped, literally almost flipped over trying to get around Hope and cover her with his own body.

 

"Yes, yes, you're naked, I know."

 

A blanket appeared around Hope and she sighed. She may have been relieved to be covered but she also wanted to sink into nothingness to hide forever.

 

"I heard the happy news! Hardly a surprise, however." He nodded at the cradle next to him. "Now, what's this about a deal?"

 

Jefferson seemed to be torn between raging at Rumpelstiltskin and appreciating the fact that he was there. "It needs to be secret."

 

"Oh-ho! I agree, dearie. If Regina finds out about your little bundle of joy a-baking she'll… lose her head!" He cackled at something only he found funny and then strolled over to Jefferson. "I'll cast a spell, keep your child hidden until… it's five years old. Then, you're on your own!"

 

"And…?" Jefferson nodded through the imp's offer. "What do you want in return?"

 

"Nothing."

 

"That's two deals for nothing. I don't believe you."

 

_"Much._ Nothing much." He giggled, "I want you to be exclusive to me, my portal jumper. Uh-uh!" He held up a finger as Jefferson began to respond. "And… _and_ this is important, I need an oath from you hatter. One day I'll need your help convincing someone of something. I want you to swear to me you'll do everything in your power to convince them."

 

The air hung heavy after Rumpelstiltskin's words, like it was waiting to seal the bonds of the oath. Jefferson frowned but, after glancing down at Hope, shrugged.

 

"Fine. Deal." He held out his hand and the Dark One took it gleefully.

 

"A deal, hatter. I'll remind you of it in time." He waved his other hand towards Hope as they shook, a breath of poppy coming with it. "She's hidden. The Queeeeeen will never know." With a final trill he disappeared and Hope fell to vomiting again.

 

* * *

 

Jefferson had made deals with the Dark One before. They usually involved agreeing to payment for portal jumping, but there were the occasional few initiated by Jefferson, when he needed something. And he had learned the reactions of Rumpelstiltskin to said deals. He could be eager, coyishly hesitant, perfectly giddy and intense with plotting. The two he'd offered Jefferson in the past month were not precisely any of those. The first one had been positively altruistic , which was odd and had to be concealing something else. This one had been… disturbingly vague.

 

A promise to convince someone of something at some point in the future. That and becoming exclusively his employee. It seemed suspicious. Then again, Jefferson had been on the verge of desperation which was a new feeling for him and one he didn't quite know how to handle. At least desperation that didn't involve his life, his survival. This almost hurt worse, struck deeper.

 

When the imp had vanished he had allowed himself to relax. From the moment that Hope's eyes told him that something was wrong he'd been on high alert. As soon as it dawned on him just what was behind the surprise in her eyes he'd felt trapped. And not because there was to be a child, but because there was to be one more thing he _needed_ to survive that Regina could strip from him. One more thing he loved to lose tragically. While Hope retched pitifully again this took on a different light. Once he felt safe that Regina couldn't crush this, it became something entirely different.

 

Jefferson was going to be a father. Hope was going to give them a child. He hugged her closer, soothed the little agonized sounds she was making with his hands over her back. A child. Was he excited? No, unless excitement suddenly meant feeling terrified. Maybe it did, a little. Admittedly, he was scared but only because he didn't think he could do it. He didn't think he could be a father to something small and helpless and innocent. He wasn't that kind of man. He was selfish and reckless and stubborn. Or he always had been before.

 

But as he sat there, murmuring softly in Hope's ear, he wasn't thinking about himself, not really. He was thinking about her and the child. Maybe she'd actually changed him, gave him a conscience. And he knew one thing, he could love.

 

"Shhh, my love. You're alright. Do you want me to get you anything?" He asked as Hope panted, finally finished it seemed.

 

Hope shook her head, groaned a little. "A new herb basket," she finally replied.

 

The mounting tension of the morning broke then, the two of them laughing weakly, sitting on the floor, naked, with a ruined basket.

 

"Jefferson?" Hope asked a few minutes later as she was combing her hair and plaiting it. "Thank you. You didn't have to make that deal. Thank you."

 

He scoffed and shook his head. "I couldn't not make that deal, Hope. I love you," he said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. That morning it had become that. "And… I'll love this child with all the… deluded ferocity that makes me love you like I do. I just… want to make sure who I am doesn't ruin that."

 

"You mean it's father?"

 

"No. The blind, selfish bastard that turned a heart-stricken queen into a murdering witch. Among other things."

 

Hope pursed her lips as she pinned her braid behind her head. Stood up and cupped his face in her hands. "I know you wouldn't do that again. You'll do everything you can to make sure what you care about is safe. That's not something to fear."

 

"And if--"

 

She placed a finger over his mouth. "And if it is a difficult moral dilemma, I'll be there to help you decide. Alright? You bring the passion, I'll provide the reason, my love."

 

Jefferson sighed, relented. "Yes. Alright." Then he looked at her stomach, still so soft and unimposing. He kissed it through her slip, reached up for her face, but Hope pulled away.

 

"Not now. I just… let me wash up, okay?" She hugged him to her chest briefly and then hurried from the room.

 

He was going to be a father. A father. He had no idea how to be a father. Although, he had some idea of how not to be a father. His parents had helped with that but hardly provided a positive role model. And then there was Hope. She was good with children, loved children but she was whimsical and mercurial and still a child herself in some ways. So was he. This poor baby was going to be so odd. But it was going to be loved. There was no doubt about that, one quality they both shared was a tenacity, a rabid devotion they'd forged with one another. They may have been utterly alone before but it was clear they would never allow that to happen again while there was strength in them. Hope had proved that several times already. Jefferson only once but he felt it in his bones.

 

"Right. I am now fit for kissing, and everything else. I think I should like to eat again." Hope marched into the room still toweling off her face.

 

Jefferson caught her in his arms, put to heart the look on her face.

 

"What… what is it?" She smiled, wondering at his expression.

 

"We're going to have a child," he replied. "We're going to have a small person whom we're going to ruin for this world undoubtedly but it'll be ours."

 

"Oh, well, yes. Our baby will be a thing to behold, your wild grin and my inability to sense appropriateness, it will confound this realm." She giggled as he kissed her. "Now. I was serious about the food. I think I want lamb shanks now. Oh, and Jefferson?"

 

He looked up from fastening his trousers.

 

"I love you."

 

"That's good because I don't think I could raise this child on my own."

 

Hope shoved him so hard that he stumbled back, sat hard on the bed. "After I'm finished with you, silly? Sure you could. Though, I find it perfectly absurd that you think I would abandon you."

 

"If you didn't love me--"

 

"I wouldn't have let you put a child inside me. I'm really very reasonable, Jefferson. Come now."

 

Jefferson laughed and then fell quiet. "Wait…"

 

Hope shrugged and pulled her stocking up her leg.

 

"You don't mean to say…"

 

"I certainly do. I mean everything I say."

 

"No. You couldn't… you didn't know…"

 

"A thing about love? Because I hadn't felt it before? No, maybe I didn't, but I figured it out soon enough. You silly man, I very clearly loved you from the moment you saved my life. Or maybe from the moment I saw that stunning face of yours. I haven't quite decided." She used a joking tone, cuffed his chin lightly as she spoke but Jefferson knew at least part of that was sincere. It took his breath away.

 

She loved him. Loved him for everything that he was, selfish, reckless, stubborn and all. He let that sink in.

 

"Hold on! Do you think I would be more likely to abandon you?"

 

"No, I suppose not. The guilt and angst would shred you. You have a very weak constitution for such things." She patted his hand and then stood. "Up you get. I'm eating for two."

 

Jefferson stared after her and then followed. "I wouldn't abandon you in the first place!"

 

"Yes, yes, I know. _Now_ you wouldn't. You just made a rather ominous sounding deal with the Dark One. Abandoning us would make that awfully inconvenient and a trifle unnecessary."

 

That banter continued for several hours, resulted eventually in an actual argument that Hope resolved by pouring a bucket of water over Jefferson's head and telling him he was too stubborn. She was being sarcastic the entire time. Every once in a while, when the nausea was still acting up or Hope was feeling particularly grouchy, she would bring that up and call him a dolt and insist that he shut up and go away.

 

The nausea itself was the thing that made Jefferson feel the worst. Hope just seemed so miserable when it struck her and he felt directly responsible. Hope would tell him it was fine, that it was both of their faults if technicalities were to be considered, but he'd still feel horrible about it. Luckily it stopped within a few weeks, right around the time he stopped being able to _not_ stare at her breasts.

 

"WHAT are you doing?" She asked for what Jefferson realized was the third time.

 

They were walking through the market on a very routine trip to the Land of Lost Things to find supplies for Rumpelstiltskin. Hope was wearing a corset-less dress on this trip. He couldn't take his eyes off of her.

 

"What?"

 

"You're staring at my chest, Jefferson. You almost walked into barrel of socks a moment ago. Stop. We're working. I can't save you from yourself."

 

"Oh. Yes, mm-hmm." He blinked quickly and then looked away. "It's… it's just they're spectacular. They weren't like that yesterday."

 

"Yes they were. Trust me."

 

"Uh… I don't think so. I would have noticed. Trust _me_."

 

"Not if I had them cinched in."

 

"Oh. And…"

 

"I decided no more squishing from now on. It was just too uncomfortable." She tugged on the bodice of her dress, clearly still uncomfortable walking around without her normal support garment. "The seamstress at market had an alternative the midwife suggested, but it is rather odd. I don't know if I like it."

 

"I think I like it," Jefferson commented before walking head on into a wagon.

 

Hope laughed at him for twenty minutes after that. It was worth it, they moved when she laughed. They were a problem for him, though. She was right that he couldn't concentrate at all that day. Eventually, with only half the list acquired, he pulled her behind a string of shops.

 

"Just what are you doing now?" She asked, trying to sound affronted but grinning all the same.

 

He pushed himself against her hip, grazed his nose over hers, over her lips. "I don't want to wait until we return home today."

 

"Yes. I have eyes. I noticed your urgency, but unlike you I can control myself. You can wait. You have to, like always." She turned her face away from his. It had become a pattern, falling into each other's arms when they stepped back through the hat's room. Sometimes they didn't even wait until after delivering the goods. But they always waited until they were home, it had become some unspoken rule.

 

"Why do I have to? What's wrong with here? Behind the… tanner's shop?"

 

"Well, for one, it smells like piss. And for another, it's not safe. We're exposed outside of the Forest. Anything could happen."

 

Jefferson sighed pitifully. "I'm aching."

 

"And my heart feels like it's on fire, but you don't hear me complaining. You can bury your face in them as soon as we get home. For now, off you get. Give me your necktie so I can cover them." She yanked at his collar until he reached up and untied the fabric for her. Pursing her lips she draped it over her magnificent breasts.

 

"There."

 

"I don't like it. Doesn't bring out your eyes." Jefferson puffed a piece of hair from his face and then slowly leaned away from her. He would be aching for some time after this.

 

"Off. And… there." She reached for his shoulder, pulled the satchel so it rested over his stomach. "Now you're covered, too. Back to it."

 

He did get to bury his face in them eventually and they were well worth the wait. Perched between her legs, Jefferson sat back from kissing their rise over the bust of her slip. He weighed both in his palms and felt a question tug at his lips.

 

"Have you been hiding these from me?" He asked, joking in tone but actually wondering.

 

"No. Well… a little, yes."

 

"Is this why you haven't been undressing?" He physically ripped off her chemise. He could buy her another. Then moved onto the new device. It was more confusing. "Are you embarrassed?"

 

"By my huge bulbous breasts? Yes, a little. They're… distended. And… I feel like the rest of me is as well." She slapped his hands away and pulled at the blankets of their bed.

 

"Well, you shouldn't be."

 

"I can feel against my thigh that _you_ feel that way. But, nonetheless, I am."

 

"I think you look breath-taking." He pushed away the blankets again, gently until she relented. Then, he returned to unlacing the casing around her breasts.

 

"You don't. You just haven't been inside of me for three weeks." With Hope refusing to remove her clothing completely and Jefferson worried about hurting the child they'd been doing other things to celebrate returning home, to enjoy the quiet nights of peace.

 

"Oh, I do. I always do, and I don't _need_ to be inside of you."

 

Hope stopped him then. Crossed her arms. "You don't. See? You're… just… feeling guilty. Or something. I can't tell. But, I disgust you."

 

"You… disgust me?" Jefferson gawked at her. "Do you feel that?" He pressed more firmly against her leg. "I want you more than anything right now, want to be inside of you."

 

"Then why haven't you been?" She slapped his hands away again and he finally gave up, sat back on his heels.

 

"I don't want to hurt the child."

 

Hope looked at him with tired eyes and then burst into laughter. "Hurt the child? Oh, my dear, sweet Jefferson! Hurt the child? You couldn't hurt the child if you tried, not with that." She pointed to his need and Jefferson suddenly felt deeply offended.

 

"I'm--… my--… what are you saying?"

 

"No, no, no! You silly! The child's only about the size of your thumb right now, or that's what the midwife told me last week. You couldn't reach it, no man could!" She fell into hysterical giggles again. "Do you think yourself a horse? Oh my! Quite an inflated sense of self you have, my dear Jefferson. Come here."

 

A little shocked still and raw from her laughter Jefferson nonetheless allowed her to pull him down to her lips.

 

Things returned to normal, for the most part, from then on. Jefferson still found himself distracted by her every once in a while, stopped what they were doing to take her in his hands, in his mouth. When he returned from an ill-timed and lengthy assignment to Olympus he had to have her immediately. She seemed to have blossomed over the course of a few days. That was when he felt his child move for the first time. He'd carried her kicking and squealing into the bedroom, ranting about how she didn't want the imp coming looking for him and seeing them like this, but he didn't care. Let the imp see.

 

"You won't even notice if he does, I'll make sure of it," he'd said from beneath the skirts of her dress.

 

By the time he'd gotten them up around her thighs she'd stopped fighting. But he stopped at that point, his hand on her stomach. There, where before she'd been soft, was a little bump. It was just a slight curve but it had definitely not been there six days before. Or he hadn't noticed it.

 

"Yes. I'm plump like a pumpkin now. I'd… I'd rather not dwell on it." She'd pushed at his hand, tried to cover it but Jefferson shook his head.

 

"It's our child. There. Underneath my hand. I can feel that it's there."

 

Hope had sighed. "Well, yes, it is. Now… if you wouldn't mind. I'll get back to canning those fruits--oh!"

 

Jefferson kept his hand on her stomach but returned to his goal, nuzzling his mouth into her button. Only few minutes later as he was preparing to slip inside of her did he move his hands to her hips, steadying her. He'd just pressed himself to her when she smacked him hard on the shoulder.

 

"Ouch! I made sure you were ready--"

 

"No. No. Feel." Hope grabbed his hand and put it on her stomach. Under his fingers he felt a tiny flurry of patters. "It's moving," she whispered. "It's quickening."

 

Jefferson had forgotten the rest. He knelt there for countless minutes feeling that little movement, then waiting for it to come back. When it responded to his voice later he giggled like a child.

 

"Do you think it can hear us?"

 

"I'd like to think so," Hope said, beaming at him. "You hear that, little one? That's your papa, he loves you."

 

They'd spent the rest of the evening talking to Hope's stomach, Jefferson doing literally anything -- from singing to tickling Hope -- to get the baby to move again. But Hope had been right, Rumpelstiltskin did come looking for his items. He showed up just after Jefferson set a contented, very naked Hope down off of his lap.

 

"Poisons, hatter!" He'd even rapped at the door before popping inside, though. That was decent.

 

Jefferson pulled Hope into his arms and yawned. "Downstairs. On the table."

 

"And you couldn't get them to me yourself? Are they too heavy?"

 

"No. I just wanted to feel my child move for the first time." He closed his eyes. Didn't care what the imp had to say.

 

" _Of course_ … I'll just be on my way, then. You can come retrieve your payment _when it's convenient for you_!"

 

Jefferson didn't pick up the gold for several weeks. When he did finally go, Hope didn't come with him. She was tired a great deal these days, having a hard time putting on dresses so she'd been hesitant to go when he decided it was time.

 

"It's been almost two months. What if he doesn't even have it anymore and we go all the way down there and it's just… the Dark One, a little miffed?"

 

Jefferson shrugged on his coat. "Then I'll leave. We have a deal that I haven't fulfilled my end of. He won't bother me. If he's miffed, he's miffed. For all I care he can shove the gold up his ass."

 

Hope snorted at him and then froze.

 

"What?"

 

Her eyes were wide, she looked from him to her feet. "I just peed a little. I didn't mean to, I laughed and I peed a little."

 

Jefferson fought back a laugh. It was funny, but Hope seemed so mortified.

 

"I'm not going. What if I sneeze and completely wet myself? No. I'll stay home."

 

He took her stomach gently in his hands. "Stop, Hope, that's the child pressing on you. Remember? The midwife said that would possibly happen soon. Come with me, we'll forage for herbs and mushrooms on the way, then we can have the stew you like so much tonight."

 

Hope let him kiss her gently, coaxingly, but she shook her head when he stepped away. "No. It's time I stopped going anywhere with you, Jefferson. It's too much." She laid a hand over his on her stomach. "I'm a whale. I'm having a hard time breathing, I'm tired. It doesn't make sense my slowing you down as you walk. Go on. I'll have supper ready for you when you get back, and a pot of tea."

 

Jefferson sighed but nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. He wanted her company but he wanted her safe and comfortable more. "Very well. I'll see you in a little while." Kissing her forehead he finished straightening his coat and then left.

 

There was no supper ready when he got back. Instead, Hope was sitting in his chair glowing with delight.

 

"It's been kicking all evening. It's a little uncomfortable, but delightful. It has so much energy. Look." She grabbed his hand and set it over the surprisingly strong hitch in her stomach. "At first I thought it was just being rambunctious but I think it missed you."

 

"Missed me?" Jefferson asked with a laugh and then quieted. The kicking had stopped. Instead a gentle roll took its place.

 

"I think its stretching. I think that's what that is," Hope offered and then leaned up to place a gentle kiss on his cheek. "She missed you."

 

"She?"

 

"Yes. Only little girls love their papas that dearly." Hope grinned and held out her hands to him. "Help me up. I'll make supper."

 

Jefferson took her hands but didn't lift her, shaking his head instead. "No. You rest. I'll get something from the inn."

 

After retrieving supper that night Jefferson didn't leave the house again. He didn't want to make his child miss him if he could avoid it.

 

* * *

 

Hope had, up until that very moment, actually enjoyed being pregnant for the most part. After she got over how different she began to look and feel and the insecurity that came from that, she was basically content. Jefferson was very supportive and still tirelessly enthusiastic about her, which relieved most of her discomfort about it. But just then, in the dead of night, many hours after he had fallen asleep she was extremely unhappy.

 

She wondered what time it was. It felt like one or two hours after midnight. The deepest part of the night and she still wasn't asleep. Groaning, she rolled onto her back and, wincing, quickly back onto her side again. She couldn't sleep on her back anymore. She couldn't sleep curled up against Jefferson's chest anymore. She could only sleep with her back to him, cupped against him and even then she still couldn't sleep!

 

And now the baby was kicking. She suddenly had to pee.

 

Growling loudly she slipped her legs off of the edge of the bed and fought to sit upright. She was humongous. Her feet ached and were probably horribly disfigured, though she couldn't know for sure. She couldn't see anything below her waist and Jefferson always ungently insisted that she was gorgeous. Hope knew she wasn't gorgeous. She was a bloated walrus. Sitting upright her back ached as well, worse than the dull throb when she was lying down.

 

She wanted to scream. In her frustration she considered waking up Jefferson to get him to help her, maybe to rub her back, but she decided against it. He looked so peaceful asleep. She didn't want to trouble him. Shuffling back into the room several -- make that far too many -- minutes later, however, Hope changed her mind. Maybe a little activity would help her drift off to sleep. She certainly had always slept heavily after a tumble before and the midwife had told her it was fine. Besides, suddenly she was very needful. That had begun happening to her throughout the past months and, while Hope found it strange and embarrassing, Jefferson had enjoyed it.

 

Scooting onto the bed, Hope crawled slowly to Jefferson's side and laid down facing him. She might not be able to snuggle up against him but she could still find a way to waken him lying like this. The best way was the most direct way.

 

"Hmm?" He hummed with gravel in his throat, his body waking before he managed to open his eyes.

 

"Jefferson. Hey, wake up."

 

"I'm wake." He slurred back, rolling his hips into her hand. Part of him was 'wake'.

 

"I can't sleep," Hope whispered and reached under the covers, past his shorts.

 

Jefferson drew a deep, contented breath as she stroked him. He rolled onto his side and finally opened his eyes. Just a little. A sliver of blue assessed her before kissing the top of her head. "I can feel that. What's wrong?"

 

"I don't know…" she tried to keep touching him but he pushed her hand away, tilted her head up to kiss her.

 

He was clearly still half asleep, his mouth warm but slow. His hands could still keep hers at bay, though.

 

"I'll help," he muttered, setting aside her arms and running his hand over her, but he fell back asleep before he even made it past her belly.

 

"Jefferson."

 

He snorted awake when she kicked him in the shin. "What?"

 

"I. Can't. Sleep."

 

"Here, let me hold you," he waited until she rolled on her other side and then gathered her to him. He was hard and warm against her back but seemed content to fall back asleep immediately, after fondling a breast sloppily.

 

Hope huffed in frustration, but took his hand, moved it over her breast. It felt wonderful, a relief almost. He moved sluggishly with her, mumbling something against her hair. Then she, although it was markedly more difficult than ever, began rocking her bottom against him. He grunted and lurched against her and then seemed to waken more, his hand actually flexing around her breast. He groaned again as she ground against him slower.

 

"Hope?" Jefferson nuzzled against her ear, bit it slowly. "What are you doing?"

 

"I told you already. I can't sleep."

 

His hand squeezed a little harder, made her gasp as it moved to pinch her nipple. "This isn't doing anything to speed that, I think."

 

"Oh, get inside of me, you silly man, and leave me sated so I may go to sleep finally!" Hope reached around and smacked him on his hip. "I need this to sleep right now, to get rid of some energy."

 

Jefferson jerked away from her but then settled back down. "Fine. I will. Yes, ma'am." He finally sounded fully awake. "You could be a little nicer about it. I was asleep-- not that I'm complaining about you demanding sex."

 

Hope shuddered as he reached below her belly, began petting her exactly where she needed it. She bumped again against his hip and lifted a leg. Jefferson took her meaning and, kicking off his shorts, slipped into her right then and there, lying spooned together on their sides. It was slow and luxuriant, Jefferson just barely lasting long enough to push Hope over the edge. He fell asleep again still inside of her, arm draped over her to protect the child. Hope drifted off a few moments later, still basking in a momentary lack of pain.

 

It was only momentary. Or it felt only momentary. She gasped awake some time later, body throbbing like one big bruise, pains shooting through her. The sun was just peeking through the curtains, so she must have slept but it didn't feel that way. Right then, it felt like she had been split open and soon would be ripped in two.

 

"Jefferson!"

 

He sat up immediately at the urgency of her voice. "What is it? What's wrong?"

 

"I think she's coming, my love."


	2. A Little Grace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Family life begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If childbirth gives you the willies, you might want to just skim this one. It's not graphic or anything but it takes up a good portion of the chapter. After that is 'daddy's girl' fluff.

"Well, she certainly is coming." The midwife stood up from the ground. Took a towel from Jefferson. "She's been coming for a while now. Why didn't you fetch me when the contractions started?"

 

Jefferson stepped back from the woman's prodding finger in his chest, brows raised. "I ran to get you as soon as Hope told me to."

 

The midwife turned to Hope. "This is your first."

 

"Yes." Hope was panting through the pain at this point.

 

"You didn't feel your water loose?"

 

"No."

 

Jefferson stepped in. "She was exhausted, she couldn't sleep last night--"

 

"I wasn't accusing her, just asking." She shooed Jefferson's valiant defense attempt back with a glare. "Well, you are fairly far along already. The babe's early. She's ready to come out and meet you, and in a hurry about it."

 

The midwife paused her assessment to look around the room. She pointed to a stool in the corner. "Now, the father, you bring me that stool and out you get. This is time for mother and Mammy Briggs alone. Mother, shush, shush now. We focus on the breathing now."

 

Hope shook her head hard as the self-named Mammy Briggs bustled behind Jefferson to herd him out of the room.

 

"No," she barked. "I want Jefferson here."

 

The midwife sighed, hands on her hip. "Oh, mother, mums always want the dads in the room but it never helps. Trust me, I've been there."

 

She didn't continue to try to push Jefferson out of the room, though. It helped that he'd crossed his arms, was glowering dangerously down at her instead of looking at her with the cornered deer look he'd been wearing. Hope held her breath, winced until she saw stars as another contraction hit.

 

"Breathe!" Mammy ordered and hustled back to the bed.

 

"Not. With. Out. Jeff. Er. Son." Hope literally squeezed the whole of her body shut in defiance.

 

"Fine, fine, mother. As long as you keep breathing. Over there, father, by her head."

 

Hope swiped her hand towards him blindly until she caught hold of something. It was his waistcoat. Two buttons popped off before he managed to exchange it for his hand.

 

"Breathe, breathe, breathe," the midwife chanted at her feet but Hope was having a hard time following even those simple directions.

 

Jefferson's face, blurred but clearly concerned, bobbed into view. "She's not breathing. Why isn't she breathing?"

 

"It's the pain. Hope." The midwife finally resorted to using her name and with urgency. "You must, simply _must_ breathe."

 

A squeaking groan grew into a scream as the strongest contraction yet made her body crumple. Jefferson gave her hand a tiny squeeze, but she couldn't respond. Her head was swimming. When that contraction released her, after what seemed like eons, she finally breathed. A deep clean gasp that filled her body and cleared her head.

 

"Good, Hope, good." Jefferson's fingers brushed the hair from her face. "Breathe with me."

 

She found him, sucked air in with him, pushed it out again when he did.

 

"Good. Good, good. That's much better, mother."

 

Following the rise and fall of Jefferson's chest was a lot harder when Hope had to snap shut her eyes to fight through the pain.

 

"No, stay with me, my love, my Hope." His other hand cradled her face. "In with me. Out with me."

 

Hope followed him and found the other end of the contraction with slightly more ease.

  
"Okay, mother, you're very close. We can start pushing soon."

 

"Ms. Briggs, what if I sit behind her to prop her up, help her breathe?"

 

"If she's fine with it. Go ahead."

 

Hope didn't really know what was going on. She was focused on the brief lack of dizzying pain. "I'm thirsty."

 

"No water now. Apologies. Go ahead, father."

 

Jefferson nodded, but kept in Hope's sightline, breathing exaggeratedly for her to follow. She heard two clunks that she assumed to be his boots falling onto the floor and Jefferson slipped out of her sight. For a brief moment she felt the panic of abandonment and lost her ability to breathe again.

 

"I'm here," he crooned behind her, hands on her back.

 

Gingerly, he leaned her off the pillows and wedged himself there instead. With his chest behind her, rising and falling steadily, Hope found her breathing again. Jefferson supported her like this, rubbing her back, mopping away her hair, holding her hands when she needed to squeeze something, for the next seven contractions until they were almost continuous. At that point the midwife hopped up.

 

"Time to move! Time to get ready to push." She leaned onto the edge of the bed and held out her hands. "Here, mother, take my hands. We're going to squat."

 

"Squat?" Jefferson asked in confusion.

 

"Yes, squat. Now, while I let her walk a stretch you should change into some clothes you don't care for. She's small and this is her first, she has to squat and she'll need you behind her to support her. Go on."

 

Hope watched Jefferson skitter from the room and whimpered. She felt heavy, stretched thin.

 

"Don't worry, dear. He's coming back. He's a devoted one." Mammy Briggs held Hope up by an elbow, massaged her back. "Yes, just walk it off a bit, now."

 

Jefferson came crashing back in as another contraction hit.

 

* * *

 

 

He hadn't had any clothing he did or didn't particularly care about, so he'd stripped down to his shorts and shirt and pulled on an apron. Hope seemed to find that funny, laughing in a strained, pained way as Jefferson scrambled towards her. The midwife only rolled her eyes, quickly banishing the humor in the moment with a curt and dismissive comment.

 

"Yes, father is wearing something ridiculous. Now, he needs to kneel down and sit on his heels. Take mother beneath her arms and hold her up."

 

Jefferson knelt down and eased Hope into a deep squat by her underarms. She hissed but settled into his chest easily. He moved his hands to her elbows as the midwife knelt in front of them both.

 

"And push!"

 

As it turned out, Hope's panting and groaning was nothing to the screams that came as she began to push.

 

"Is--is she okay?" He asked of Mammy during a more restrained yell.

 

The midwife looked up and rolled her eyes. "Yes, she's all flowers and sunshine. Does she sound okay to you? Her body's performing a great feat, she'll be fine once it's finished. That's it, good job, mother. Take a rest, for a moment. That was a good push."

 

Hope sagged in his arms, gasped for air. "Am I _okay_? You are a silly man." She let her head fall back onto his shoulder.

 

"Yes, yes. I'm very silly," Jefferson muttered back nervously.

 

He had more to say but Hope's body grew rigid against him before he could begin.The contraction was so powerful that he could feel the spasm of her body through her back and against his stomach.

 

"Push now!"

 

Hope lifted herself from him and, with her elbows digging hard into his palms, let out another scream. If the first had made him nervous, this one ripped at his heart. It was guttural and blood-curdling, like she was dying. Part of him was extremely glad he couldn't see her face. This was _his_ fault; he didn't think he could bear to face the suffering he'd caused her. The other part wanted to look into her eyes so she would know he was there. This _was_ his fault but it was hurting _her_ ; he should share in its consequences with her.

 

Clearly, though, she knew he was there. Her elbows were sharp and heavy in his palms and his arms were starting to weary from helping to support her weight. He couldn't imagine what she was feeling just then. The scream ebbed out into a sob, only to screech back to life.

 

"Okay, that's enough," Mammy appeared again in front of Hope. "Another break. She's coming quickly still."

 

Jefferson realized he'd been holding his breath as well. He rocked Hope gently when she fell against him again.

 

"I hate this, Jefferson," she croaked. "I may kill you for doing it to me when it's over."

 

He chuckled nervously. "And you'd be justified doing so. _Or…_ we'll have a baby and I'll take such good care of you that you'll forget this part of it."

 

"Oh, she won't forget. But that's lovely thinking, father. A sweet try. Are we ready to push again, mother? It's coming again."

 

Hope grunted and leaned forward again, resting even more heavily on Jefferson's hands. She was losing strength. He pressed more closely his chest into her back and closed his eyes as she started screaming again.

 

"The head! She's crowning. Another push!"

 

It was more of a bellow now, Hope's whole body was tensed and focused on this one thing.

 

"And again for the shoulders!"

 

Hope moaned this time, throwing her head back onto him, weaker and weaker. Then she relaxed.

 

"It is a girl. Good guess, mother." Mammy sat back and nodded.

 

A tiny, shrill wail split the air after a smack. It was almost as reassuring in its noise as was Hope's screaming in its sudden silence.

 

"And she's got good air." She reached for one of the linens on the stool beside her and began cleaning the baby.

 

Or that's what he assumed she was doing with it. Jefferson couldn't see anything. He was focused elsewhere. Hope in the meanwhile had melted against him, panting and whimpering. He slid into a sit and brought her with him, smoothing her hair, kissing the side of her face.

 

"You did it. You did it, Hope."

 

"I… did… is she… healthy?"

 

Jefferson looked to check, but the midwife already had her wrapped up.

 

"Oh, yes, mother. Baby girl's very healthy. Her bond is cut, and she is breathing well. If father wishes to hold her, I'll get mother back into bed to rest."

 

He glanced at Hope, but her eyes were closed. She did need the rest. He scooped her up as carefully as he could and carried her back to the bed. She opened her eyes again when he kissed her.

 

"She's healthy?"

 

Jefferson nodded, "she's healthy. Do you… do you want to see her?" He held out his arms to Mammy for the baby.

 

He had been so focused on making sure Hope was alright, he'd forgotten about actually having the child. When she was settled into his arms his heart stopped.

 

"Jefferson?"

 

He'd been staring, forgotten to show her to Hope.

 

"How is she?"

 

He felt himself smiling, shook his head. "She's perfect, Hope," he said, tilting the little bundle in his arms so Hope could see her. "She's so perfect."

 

And she was. Now that she'd stopped crying, her sweet little face was a soft, pink circle. A little button nose, Hope's petite lips in exact miniature. She hadn't opened her eyes yet, but he knew they were going to be beautiful, with their delicate eyelashes, almost non-existent brows.

 

"She's perfect," he muttered again and sat down beside Hope. "I don't deserve her, or you."

 

Hope scoffed mildly but didn't otherwise dignify his self-depreciation with a response as she lifted a shaking hand to their baby's cheek. "Oh, Jefferson. Look at her. She has your nose. She _is_ perfect."

 

Jefferson brushed a thumb over the little forehead and then settled her against Hope's chest, a little begrudgingly. He'd been wrong. Now she was perfect, wrapped in her mother's arms, glowing under Hope's own light. "What a beautiful thing you've done today, Hope…"

 

Hope grinned softly, continued stroking their baby's light, light hair. "Look at her. We made her, Jefferson. She's… she's so wonderful. Our little, sweet, charming… privilege."

 

"Grace," Jefferson said immediately and then laughed at himself. "She's our grace."

 

Hope beamed at him. "Yes, Grace. That's just what she is," she crooned and looked back at their daughter. "Our dear Grace."

 

"Lovely."

 

Jefferson jumped slightly. He'd forgotten that Mammy Briggs was there.

 

"Grace is a delightful name. Now, if mother, father and baby want to rest, I'll leave you to it. But, if mother wants to try nursing the baby I'll stay to help."

 

Hope thought about that as she gazed at Grace, then looked at Jefferson, her brown eyes wide. She was exhausted and overwhelmed, leaving her unusually unsure. "I… I don't know."

 

"Hmm, well, I can show you how and then--" Mammy clicked her mouth closed as Grace started crying. "I think Grace just made your decision for you. She's probably hungry."

 

Whatever she was, Grace was not happy about it. Her little eyes were screwed tight shut, that mouth of her mother's stretched to let out the most sound. Jefferson cradled her head in the palm of his hand and she quieted some, but kept fussing. One little chubby fist slipped from the swaddling and stretched out, shook at him. He took it carefully and gasped when she grabbed back, wrapping those fingers hard around just one of his. Then, finally, she opened her eyes. They were Hope's eyes, the tranquil, soft brown Jefferson had lost himself in time and again. Grace gazed up at him for untold seconds, fascinated by him. For being so brand new, she had very familiar expressions. Hope had looked at him like that, made him fall in love with her looking at him like that. Jefferson let out a shuddering breath. This was more than he'd expected, more than he'd imagined. He felt helpless, overwhelmed by his own emotions. Hope's voice gave him a bit more strength.

 

"I think she likes you, my love." She was watching the two of them with the same look as was on her daughter's face.

 

Jefferson chuckled, shook his head. "Well, I _know_ I _love_ her. I love you. I'm a little overwhelmed by it all." He dragged his eyes away from Grace again. "I just _hope_ she likes me."

 

Grace finally looked away from him, blinking and working her mouth. Mammy stepped up beside Jefferson and reached out for the precious bundle in front of him. He almost jerked his arm to stop her, but remembered himself, moved aside for her to help Hope nurse. He could still admire his daughter from the other side of the bed.

 

 _His daughter_.

 

Hope smiled at him as he looped his arm around her shoulder. There he was perfectly content. He watched his Grace's face as the midwife tucked her into place, as Hope struggled to get her to take to drinking. She had the most curious way, kept looking around as the two women coaxed her and crooned. She found his face again and blinked solemnly up at him.

 

Jefferson couldn't help but laugh.

 

"Oh, we have a father's girl," Mammy commented, taking a break.

 

"Yes, she even missed him in the belly when he left." Hope reached up and stroked his face. "Just like her Momma."

 

Still looking at him, Grace reached out her hands and took Hope's finger, mouthed at it and then the breast. Hope gasped as she started suckling. The two of them were so entranced with their baby's every movement that neither noticed the midwife had slipped away. Even with her brief farewell it hardly registered that she'd left, or even been there at all.

 

"Enjoy your Grace."

 

They were. Both Jefferson and Hope were inextricably caught in Grace's net, under the spell of her big brown eyes as she suckled. Her little mouth working so hard, she reached out again with that hand, found Hope's. Jefferson joined her, exploring the little dimples in her hand, in her elbow. After a few minutes she slowed down, began only mouthing. Jefferson took the moment to feel the softness of her hair, the velvety texture of her ear. He glanced over to point out the same dimple he had in his ear to Hope, but she was dozing. Her eyes were fluttering closed, mouth slightly open, just like their baby's.

 

Jefferson wished he could save that moment, he wished he could get to his drawing pad without disturbing them, without them leaving his sight. He contented himself with just watching. With soaking in every detail, feeling it with all of himself. Hope muttered something in that twilight place between wakening and sleep, leaned her head into his hand as he twirled her hair. Grace kicked a little, stretched to her full length and then nuzzled back against her mother.

 

"Did I fall asleep?"

 

"Only for a short while. So did Grace."

 

Hope yawned, covered herself back up. "She just ate and fell asleep? As easy as that?"

 

"She did."

 

"I don't blame her. That was quite an exhausting ordeal we had."

 

Jefferson untangled the swaddling blankets so that Hope could properly move her arms. "Here, why don't I take her and lay her in her crib? Then I'll get you something and let you nap. Do you want some tea?"

 

"Red clover, please. Thank you, Jefferson." Hope carefully handed off their sleeping Grace to him and snuggled back into the pillows.

 

For a moment, he considered taking Grace downstairs with him, but she was sleeping so sweetly. So he laid her down gently in her conveniently provided cradle and stood back. He could have watched her coo and stretch and quietly yawn but Hope was waiting for her tea. She, too, might pass clean out soon.

 

Sure enough, when he came back up with her clover tea Hope was fast asleep. And she stayed asleep the rest of the day. The sun set and both of his girls continued resting peacefully. Lying down on the bed might disturb Hope and besides Jefferson wasn't tired, so he tiptoed downstairs and sat at his workbench. He had something to finish, something that Hope might like when she got up and about again.

 

Her magic map extended all the way to three miles in every direction, filled the entire stretch of vellum. He pulled it up and laid his field notes down next to it. There were only a couple dozen plants to letter in before it was finished, he could have it filled in and dried before she got up the next morning.

 

"Traditionally, when you have a child, hatter, you spend time with it and its mother, not a… map."

 

Jefferson sighed loudly and set down his brush. "They're sleeping. Birth is a tiring event."

 

Rumpelstiltskin tittered and dropped into the chair across from him. "And the cradle? Convenient, no?"

 

"Yes, predictably convenient for sleep. Can I help you with something?"

 

"Cranky, cranky. Was it not a happy day?"

 

Jefferson rolled his eyes as he picked back up his brush. "Very happy. Happy for me, in the privacy of my home, with my Hope and my daughter."

 

"Ah, a little daughter! What's her name?" He bounced in his seat. "No, no, no. Let me guess. Let me guess. Ah…"

 

"I'm not going to tell you. I know your tricks, Imp."

 

"Ah… Grace."

Jefferson huffed but didn't respond.

 

"Very well, hatter, but all the same, congratulations and remember: she's under my cloaking spell until she's five. No more, no less. Good luck!"

 

Jefferson didn't look up when he spoke, didn't care when he left. It didn't matter. He never had any privacy anymore it seemed.

 

In a few hours' time he'd finished the lettering and was making another pot of tea in case Hope woke up. As he was cozying the kettle and stacking the cups on the tray he heard a little wail. Grace had woken and was not happy about something. Hope was blearily crawling across the bed as he edged inside the room again.

 

"Don't worry about it, I've got her." He set the service down on the edge of the bed and hurried to Grace's cradle.

 

She was squirming hard in her blankets and had kicked loose her swaddling. Jefferson scooped her up and rocked her slowly. It didn't calm her screaming any. She wanted something else. Instead of panic, which he'd expected at the sound of his child balling, Jefferson felt focused. He just needed to figure out what she wanted. Leaning her against his shoulder, Jefferson gathered up some of the supplies the midwife had left and prepared to change his very first diaper. She'd told them a baby could cry for many reasons, but usually it was for hunger, for a change, for sleep, or for attention. Grace had eaten and slept, and picking her up hadn't helped. So it must be a diaper change.

 

"Process of elimination," he muttered to himself and patted Grace gently on the back. "Papa will figure out what you want eventually."

 

Grace burped quietly and immediately stopped crying.

 

"What did you do?" Hope asked in amazement from the bed.

 

Jefferson looked at the supplies in his hand then to his daughter's head lying on his shoulder. "I think it was just a little air. I only patted her."

 

"Oh, I fell asleep before I could burp her," Hope smiled sheepishly. "Oops."

 

"We'll figure it out. Just… a little practice first." He tossed the cloths onto the bed and held Grace in his arms to look at her. "But you're happy now, aren't you, Grace? Papa said he'd figure out what you wanted and he did."

 

"See? You're better at this than you expected. Mmm, thank you, my love." Hope had found the tea and fixed herself up a cup. "She slept for a long time, didn't she?"

 

"As long as you did. Several hours." Jefferson sat on the foot of the bed, considered his daughter. "Do you think I should change her anyway?"

 

"While we're all awake, why not?"

 

He laid her down on the bed and began unwrapping the swaddling blankets. She was so very small and soft, little pudgy arms, a round little belly, the tiniest toenails imaginable.

 

"How do you feel now?" He asked, chuckling as his daughter wiggled at his voice.

 

"Still very tired, and aching, but I can't have the willow bark while I'm nursing. I'll just have to cope on my own."

 

Jefferson frowned at that. "Is there anything I can do?"

 

Hope was smiling down at him, tired but glowing. "I think you're doing precisely what you should be right now. You're a natural papa, I think." She yawned and fluttered her eyes. "I'm sorry, Jefferson. I think I need to go back to sleep. Are you…?"

 

He scoffed, "I think I've got it for now. Please, go back to sleep. Get some rest. We'll go explore the downstairs. Won't we Grace?"

 

Her eyes followed him as he wrapped a fresh cloth around her little bottom.

 

"I'll bring her back up when she's hungry."

 

Jefferson spent most of the night walking around the house holding up items and naming them. Only half the time was Grace actually awake, but she stayed calmest when he was talking and he felt like he was being a good father introducing his baby to the world. It made him feel accomplished.

 

"And this is Mama's hat. Papa made it especially for her." He managed to catch Grace's attention with it, waving the purple and gold fabric above her head. "Papa will make you a hat when you're big enough for one. Maybe before."

 

He put the hat away on its stand and kept on. "Papa has another hat, a magic hat he'll show you sometime as well. It's how he found your Mama. She was in silly world where nothing made sense but her. And she helped Papa find a disappearing cat and then turned herself to stone so Papa could bring her home!"

 

Grace sucked on her fist as he talked, blinking slowly.

 

"Papa is very glad he needed help finding that disappearing cat. Otherwise he wouldn't have you, dear Grace. No, he wouldn't…" Jefferson kissed her forehead gently and then stepped up to the line where the map was drying. "And this is your mama's magic map. It has all the plants in the forest around your home. When you're old enough, we'll teach you about them. And this is where we eat, the kitchen. And Papa's workbench where he makes his hats."

 

Grace pulled her fist out with a pop and twisted her face into a frown.

 

"Uh-oh. What's wrong?"

 

She kicked in his arms and then cried.

 

"Okay, okay. Tour's over. We'll let you eat again. Just have to wake up Mama first."

 

Jefferson took her back to Hope to nurse, but even when she was full and burped he held her again, told her stories. He didn't sleep at all that night, but it didn't bother him. When the sun rose the next morning and its light caught in his daughter's eyelashes, in his Hope's hair, he didn't mind that he was bone tired. He was happy.


	3. Firsts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Parenthood dials up into full-swing as Jefferson and Hope watch Grace discover the world

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that the timeline here with Rumpel is a little off but I couldn't part with it in the end. It made things fit together better later.  
> Oh, and the ending's a little racy.

Hope had missed the majority of her daughter's first day and that, initially, made her terribly sad. She cried quite a lot in the next week and not for only that reason. She cried when she spilt tea, when Jefferson burnt the sausage, when the bird outside her window suddenly stopped singing. This confused her and Jefferson, but he handled it well, handled everything well. That made Hope cry also. He was so good with their daughter. She bawled helplessly when he got Grace to stop whining when she couldn't. She felt like she was a horrible mother, that she couldn't do anything. Jefferson had floundered around, doing everything he could for her, but she was miserable. All she wanted was to be happy again, but nothing did it.

 

Eventually, Mammy Briggs was fetched by Jefferson from the town. She told them that Hope had the birthing sadness, that it happened to most mothers, and that it would soon pass. Jefferson had smiled brightly at Hope, told her everything was going to be fine, but she'd just started crying again. But knowing that had given her some solace and, within a few more days, she felt the clouds lift. Through that whole time Jefferson took meticulous care of her and acted ecstatically happy about it the whole time. She could tell he was exhausted, though. He had dark circles under his eyes, his hair was a little wilder than normal and he'd stopped shaving.

 

Finally, one morning, she woke up before the dawn broke, like she'd used to. As if she hadn't been bed-ridden with depression for the past week or so, she slipped out of bed and got dressed, tied his silk handkerchief around her neck even. Then, she started tidying. Their room had become a horrible mess. Jefferson was good at seeing to Grace, but he let things get out of hand mess-wise very quickly. He was still sleeping, fully dressed with his hand in the cradle.

 

Hope edged around him and gathered up the diapers and nursing clothes. She would wash all these later. It felt good to get up, actually move. After checking on their darling Grace, she finally tiptoed from the room. The whole house was littered with oodles of stuff. Rubbish and dirty dishes and clothing clean or worn, it was impossible to tell. Jefferson had really lost control of things out here. He'd just been barely keeping up appearances in their room to keep Hope happy. She quickly ran a sweep of the house, straightening things, gathering them for a wash. Once things were mildly back to normal, she put on the kettle and crept back upstairs.

 

Her chest was aching, Grace was sure to wake up hungry soon, so she lifted her carefully from her cradle and brought her downstairs with her. She hummed the Old Father William song she'd used to sing to her school children as she worked, rocking Grace. With a cup of tea, a blanket, and her precious daughter, Hope stepped out into the garden again for the first time. She decided she wanted to nurse out there this morning, wanted to give Grace her first morning tea in the garden.

 

Grace slept soundly through Hope's second refrain of Old Father William, as she basked in the gentle dawn light. The clover tea wasn't her normal cup, but it was nice enough in the cool breeze with the birds singing sweetly around her. The garden was just starting to come alive after the winter, it was the perfect time for Grace to have been born, the spring.

 

"Oh, hello!" Hope lifted the blanket shading Grace's eyes away as her little mouth stretched into a yawn, her eyes blinked blearily up at her.

 

Part of her was a little sad that she'd gotten her eyes. Jefferson had such lovely blue eyes that would have been so beautiful on their daughter, but Hope couldn't complain. Grace was perfectly adorable staring up at her with those big, soft brown ones. And she had other things from her father, like his nose. Hope tapped it softly and felt a warm calm wash over her. 

 

Nursing was still a bit of a struggle. Grace was a little wishy-washy about it, but eventually she got her suckling and was able to sit back and relax. Hope had just finished burping her when she heard a loud crash inside.

 

"That must be your papa looking for you," she told Grace. "Mama stole you away before he woke up."

 

She snickered quietly to herself as she heard the garden door fly open and the big sigh that followed.

 

"You got out of bed."

 

"Well, yes, obviously."

 

Jefferson, clearly trying to cover the fact that he'd been on the verge of panic, ambled over to sit down next to her. "And you came out to the garden."

 

"Very observant," Hope replied, smiling when Jefferson didn't. "I wanted to introduce Grace to the garden on the first day of spring."

 

He slid closer and gazed down at Grace, tapping her nose very lightly when she gazed right back. "Mama surprised Papa this morning. She did. Do you like the garden, Grace? Mama loves it."

 

Hope let him croon and beam at Grace for a moment and then cleared her throat. "Were you worried?"

 

Jefferson blushed. "Well… you haven't been getting out of bed on your own. I was _mildly_ concerned."

 

"I heard the crash, Jefferson."

 

He cowed at that. "Yes, well, I was worried. You were both just gone, and before dawn. I thought something was wrong."

 

"I'm better now, my love. No need to worry."

 

Jefferson sighed as she stroked his face. He'd very obviously been very worried for too long.

 

"You should go back to bed. I can handle her on my own today."

 

Shadowed deeply with exhaustion his eyes looked even bluer. "Are you sure?"

 

Hope sat back, feigned offense. "I am quite sure, thank you very much! Grace and I have some acquainting to do. Besides, I'm the one with the food. It'll be fine." She ran her thumb over his cheek and then kissed him lightly, just on his bottom lip. "I'll even make you some supper later, if you're awake."

 

Hope hadn't been kidding, she fully intended on finally getting to know her child that day, but it was slightly more stressful than she'd imagined. Nevertheless, she suffered through, let Jefferson sleep through lunch and even did some cooking. It was work, but it was better than what she'd been drowning in before. Much better.

 

And, it got easier. Each day things became a little more natural, a little less frightening. Before she knew it, Grace had lived through her very first spring. Summer rolled in hot and humid and Grace got bigger every day. Then, one day she did something that made everything instantly melt away.

 

She and Jefferson had returned to old habits, had begun spending the mornings in the forest and, in the peak of the summer, gathering fruits and roots and herbs for use in the house. Today they were awash with mushrooms, good hardy ones for stews. Sometime after they'd begun going on outings the three of them, Jefferson had fashioned a little swaddling strap for Grace and had begun securing her to his or Hope's chest for their walks. On that particular morning, Grace was strapped to Hope facing outward since she'd been squirming so hard to see her papa.

 

"Mama knows all the plants. She taught Papa that it's important to know all the plants," Jefferson was informing their daughter, walking backwards in front of Hope so he could look at them both. "This way we can live in the forest with nothing else but our own hands. Also, to make Mama's wonderful mushroom and rabbit stew."

 

He stooped over for a second to pick an aforementioned mushroom and Grace grunted, straining to see him again. Hope stopped and smoothed the hair on her head soothingly.

 

"Papa's still there. Never you worry, Grace," she muttered into her daughter's hair, then kissed it softly before craning around to see her face. "See? Mama's here too."

  
Grace looked at her briefly and then past her.

 

"Oh, yes, Papa's still here," Jefferson cooed, popping back upright and grinning.

 

That's when she smiled. Grace bounced lightly in her strapping and broke into her very first grin, all her father with crinkled eyes and chin dimple. Hope almost stumbled and then started laughing.

 

"You smiled, Grace!"

 

"You did! What a big smile, my dear Grace!" Jefferson dropped the mushroom he'd collected into his basket and set it down, bounding over to Hope and scooping Grace out of her strap. "You smiled your very first smile. Was it because of the mushroom? Your mama used to smile at mushrooms like that, too."

 

He winked over at Hope as he spun around with their daughter cupped in front of him.

 

"I think it was because she saw her Papa." Hope joined them, peered down into Grace's face hoping for another smile. "Was it because you love your papa, darling Grace?"

 

Another smile.

 

"Aw, it's so perfect. She looks just like you."  
 

Hope shook her head. "She may have my eyes, but that's your smile, Jefferson. Without a doubt."

 

"Maybe… Here." He slipped Grace back into her straps and picked up the basket. "Will you smile for us again, Grace? Will you smile for the dancing mushroom?"

 

Grace gurgled and cooed at Jefferson, holding out her little dumpy fists as he tramped in front of her with a handful of mushrooms. Hope laughed.

 

"You are a silly man, Jefferson."

 

"Yes, but Grace likes it. Doesn't she? Oh, yes."

 

Sure enough she was grinning again. Hope sighed, grinning as well. This was the best first yet. The smile quickly became a very big deal, and Jefferson, the exuberant father that he was  went from being a hermit to a very sociable man, if only to show all the villagers that his baby could smile. They spent an extra hour at market that week as all the older women babbled for Grace's smile and the men and young girls tried their hand at pulling faces and offering toys. Grace, once she got the hang of it, was a very generous smiler, but it was for Jefferson that she saved the best ones.

 

After a very long, hard day of smiling as Papa played peek-a-boo instead of making hats later that week, Grace was dozing in Hope's arms at the dinner table. It was a strangely quiet moment between the two of them. Usually, when Grace slept, they slept, but they were still eating dinner so they suddenly found themselves without a baby to entertain and nothing to say. Hope felt a moment of heart-breaking confusion. She didn't know what to do, how to just be with Jefferson anymore.

 

To distract herself from that, Hope got up from the table and laid Grace out in her downstairs crib. Jefferson was watching her when she sat back down. He was really looking at her, too. She hadn't seen that look lately, he'd been reserving that intensity for Grace, or Hope just hadn't noticed it because she too was so distracted.

 

"What's wrong?" He asked quietly, to keep from waking Grace.

 

"Oh, nothing. Nothing's wrong at all."

 

"That's a lie."

 

Hope looked up prepared to fight that one, but she didn't have it in her. "Fine... I think I miss you."

 

"I'm right here," he said, adding when she sighed, "but I know what you mean." He picked up his plate and moved to the other side of the table, to Hope's side. "Every waking moment we have a little intruder now, don't we?"

 

"A sweet, lovely, darling little intruder. Yes," Hope agreed, leaning her head on his shoulder. He didn't even smell like himself anymore. It made a fraction of her heart hurt. "I miss you."

 

Jefferson wrapped his arm around her shoulder and settled his chin in her hair. "I miss you, and your cheekiness. I haven't had a good scolding in months." Hope nudged him in the ribs but he kept on. "We'll have to find some time for ourselves sometime soon. I bet Old Lady Kissinger would jump at the opportunity."

 

"Old Lady Kissinger smells like mothballs and grins like the Cheshire cat. I don't want Grace with her. Maybe Mammy Briggs, if she's not too busy." Hope shut her eyes and sank more into his chest.

 

"Picky, picky. Mammy Briggs said she was absolutely not a babysitter. You remember that."

 

"Mmm… then maybe the shoemaker and his wife. They have a toddler. I'm sure they could be trusted with Grace."

 

"Maybe," Jefferson kissed the crown of her head. "Either way, we need the time. I feel like we haven't spoken about anything besides food, diapers or the wash in months."

 

"That's because we haven't," Hope chuckled weakly. "Oh, and Grace's smile."

 

"Yes, Grace's smile."

 

Their dinner went cold in front of them, the two drifting to sleep mumbling about spending time together. They didn't awake until Grace did, screaming for being left alone for so long. And so it continued for another month, life dominated by the barest things and exhaustion, interspersed with little moments of happiness: when Grace laughed for the first time as Hope skipped around with her trying to catch a diaper cloth that had blown away with the wind, when she first pushed herself up from her stomach to watch Jefferson making Hope's tea, when she grabbed her first toy, a little pink cat. Hope and Jefferson never got around to asking anyone for help. Life got in the way again.

 

Soon, though, they began to hurt for money. Rumpelstiltskin had left Jefferson alone for months now, probably not out of consideration for their raising a child, but for some reason, and Jefferson had only brought in a very meager sum selling a hat here and there. They had to talk about things seriously.

 

Grace was fussy that night, had been having a hard time with her tummy all day. Hope was worried it was because of all the roots she'd been eating, they'd not been able to afford much at market that week.

 

"I'm going to go to Rumpelstiltskin tomorrow," Jefferson announced sullenly, trying and failing to distract Grace with her kitty. "I'll ask for a supplies run, something quick to Limbo or the Greylands. I'll be back before tea."

 

Hope fought her initial melancholy response. She wanted to go with him but she also didn't, so she only nodded.

 

"He'll pay me whatever I ask and that'll tide us over for months." He set down the cat, cupped Grace then Hope's face. "Then you can eat something substantial."

 

"And then we can have our break?"

 

Jefferson closed his eyes. "Yes, our break. How could I forget? Then we can have our break. A whole day, just you and I."

 

Hope shifted Grace to her other breast with a heavy sigh. Jefferson and she wouldn't have their day alone. They probably wouldn't even have an hour alone. Nonetheless, he was right. They needed to go to Rumpelstiltskin as much as it made her stomach turn. Jefferson was looking thin, his eyes a bit too big in his face. She didn't want to say gaunt, but that was the word. He'd been giving her almost all the food. And they were feeble meals at that. They hadn't had any cheese or milk in the house in weeks, meat for longer. He was also exhausted, manic in his desperation to find food in the forest and therefore not really sleeping.

 

She reached out her hand, clasped his tightly. "Just be careful, please."

 

For a second his face lit up, the little half-grin she never saw anymore made a reappearance. "Since when am I careful?"

 

It was a joke but it made sleeping restless and difficult for Hope that night, even after it took hours to put Grace down. She needed him to be exactly the opposite of the person who had said that to her last, who had come back with a bloody harpoon through his leg. And yet, she missed that man. The one dead asleep on his face beside her was only ever careful anymore. This was what their tiny family needed, but Hope still felt like he was a different person to the one she'd fallen in love with. She still loved him, of course, but it was a quieter love, one that shared glances and enjoyed just sitting together. They didn't have any adventures anymore. Everything was steadily, painfully familiar.

 

The most surprising thing that had happened between them was her walking in on him enjoying his alone time, as she referred to it later. The problem with that wasn't that he'd been doing it or even that he'd been caught. It was Hope's inability to forget it. She'd been surprised and then embarrassed and then startlingly frustrated. Many months had passed since he'd touched her in that sort of manner. She had hoped Grace's more regular sleeping schedule would change that, but then they'd just started sleeping more as well. She was starved for his attention, for Jefferson to be her love again instead of a Papa, if even for only an hour. Maybe a trip would allow for that. But only if he made it back in one piece.

 

So, there she lay, nervous and anxious and frustrated, trying to get herself to go to sleep. It was too many feelings at once, so she got up and took a sleeping draught like she had been drinking more and more regularly. Fortunately for her, she didn't dream that night.

 

* * *

 

 

Jefferson kissed his daughter and Hope on the front porch the next morning. He wasn't worried that he wouldn't come back, but he was nervous to leave them. They were both so vulnerable.

 

"And lock the doors. If the Queen comes, just hide in the basement. The cloaking spell is on Grace still and it might deter her from actually finding you."

 

"We'll be fine, Jefferson. If that woman comes I'll invite her in for tea and she'll be so disgusted by the paltriness of my cupboards that she'll run screaming. If not, I'll poison her." Hope boosted Grace higher on her hip and lifted her brow at him, like she was daring him to argue the point.

 

Jefferson bit his cheek and then nodded. "Fine. Do what you want. I'll see you soon either way." He kissed her one more time for good measure, a hard, smashing kiss so he could feel her on his mouth for a few more minutes, then dipped down to look into Grace's eyes. "Don't worry, my dear Grace. Papa will be back soon. He loves you very much. And your mama."

 

"Go," Hope insisted, shoving his shoulder away but not meeting his eye. "Before I kick you off the porch. Or drag you back inside by your necktie."

 

He flashed a sheepish grin and then hopped down the steps, back-pedaling into the forest. He waved once more and then turned, fairly certain they'd stay to watch him go until Hope couldn't see him anymore. He did her the favor of jogging into the shadows of the trees and darting off the path almost immediately.

 

The trip to Rumpelstiltskin's castle was a full day's journey by foot but Jefferson wasn't planning on walking the whole way. It was a cheat he didn't often use because magic was a dangerous thing to tamper with, but today time was of the essence. He tossed the hat onto the forest floor several miles into the wildest part of the woods. No one would find the portal there. In the hat's door room he could just direct the Enchanted Forest portal to the Dark One's sitting room.

 

He chose the library instead and stepped through. Not exactly what he'd expected.

 

"Who are you?"

 

Jefferson was greeted by a gasp and a smack by a broom. His attacker swung again but he ducked it, holding out his hands.

 

"No one to beat with a broom, promise! Rumpelstiltskin knows me. I'm the hatter. Jefferson." He eyed the girl hesitantly, lowering his hands as she lowered her broom. "Who are you? I haven't seen you before?"

 

"She's my help." Rumpelstiltskin strolled into the room, a sly grin in place. "I traded her for an armistice in a stuffy little town. Belle, meet Jefferson. He's a business associate of mine. Who, I assume, has come for some business."

 

Jefferson straightened up. "I have. Do you have any?"

 

"Need the money?"

 

"I do. So? Anything you need me to pick up? Supplies from Limbo, from Greylands… from anywhere?"

 

Rumpelstiltskin's face curled into a knowing smirk. "Things are tight with the child, aren't they?"

 

"You have a child?" Belle asked with interest, but the imp waved her off.

 

"Never you mind. Off you go. Dust something. Read a book."

 

Jefferson waited until the girl had bustled out. "They're expensive, yes."

 

"Last I saw you, you weren't keen to have anything to do with me." Rumpelstiltskin hopped onto the table and stared at Jefferson. "Have anything to say?"

 

Patience running thin, Jefferson drew a deep breath. "I was angry because you kept violating our arrangement for my privacy. Now I'm coming to you for business. The two are very different situations."

 

"Well, at least you've lost none of your ability to not mince words, hatter. Very well, I do have some things need retrieving, restocking really."

 

"Great. Give me a list and I'll get them promptly."

 

"Uh, uh, uh." The imp held out a finger, shook it at Jefferson with delight. "That's not all I need done. This trip will also require a sort of… report of the current state of things. I may have had a hand in banishing a rather powerful person and I'd like to know how she's faring. Can't have her becoming a possible threat."

 

Jefferson took a step back. "You're sending me somewhere where you've banished an enemy? I don't know…"

 

"Oh, not directly myself, dearie. She can't know for sure that I was involved and I don't need you to approach her. Just find out where she is, what she's doing… if she's even alive."

 

"Okay… and just where did you banish her?"

 

Rumpelstiltskin smiled wickedly. "Wonderland."

 

The word hit Jefferson like a pailful of cold water. Wonderland was a place of exile? Sure, it was irritatingly nonsensical but punishment-worthy? Maybe… maybe if you're trapped. He shuddered to think about what would have happened to him if he'd been trapped there without Hope to help him escape. Yes. Definitely a land to banish a bitter enemy.

 

"Okay… Wonderland. And whom do I ask after?"

 

"I don't rightly know!" The imp cackled back. "Knowing her, she'll have shed her skin and morphed into someone else. Not literally, don't worry! Just ask after a new woman. Wonderland never has visitors so she should be easy to find."

 

"A new woman…"

 

"Yes! She's about yay high, black of heart, sneering confidence… likes to rip out hearts. Just describe her thus and you should find her."

 

Jefferson frowned. "Likes to rip out hearts… Did you banish Regina?"

 

"Nope! Her mother!" Rumpelstiltskin giggled gleefully. "Now, find out what she's doing, where she is, if she's dead and then get me some mushroom. The big and the small type. I have an inkling a certain slayer of the Jabberwock will be earning them soon."

 

Jefferson took a step backwards as the imp leapt off the table.

 

"And make it snappy, hatter, I don't plan on being in this evening." He vanished, leaving Jefferson to fret. Wonderland… he was going back to Wonderland.

 

Stepping into the hat's door room, he flexed his shoulders, rolled his neck. He was going back to Wonderland to find out about an evil witch. What could go wrong?

 

"Everything," Jefferson grumbled as he stepped into the obnoxiously garish sunlight of Wonderland. "Everything could go wrong."

 

This time the looking glass led him into the middle of a deep wood. That happened sometimes with the portals' doors, they would shift some, but not usually this drastically. Though, nothing was usual for Wonderland. He shrugged and tried to find his bearings, looking around for anything distinctive. There was nothing though, it was just very dark and sometimes very light where the sunlight broke through. With a sigh he set off straight ahead, hoping this path was a real one and not just a trick of the light. It turned out to be a real path, it just wasn't a useful one. Eventually he reached a series of predictably absurd signage that informed him, among other things, that he was in the Black Forest. He did, however, also happen upon a local. A particularly manic local.

 

"Excuse me, pardon me, move it, scoot!"

 

Jefferson stepped aside as a streak of grey rocketed past him.

 

"Was that a rabbit in a waist coat?" He wondered aloud. "…and a top hat…"

 

"A hare, if you please!" Said hare whipped around and spat up towards his face. "Who's askin'?!"

 

"Uh… Jefferson. What… happened to your hat?"

 

The hare snatched back the hat that Jefferson had just put his hand through.

 

"I didn't come out of it, if that's what you're going to ask. I'm a hare, not a rabbit! Why is that so confusing?" He was basically vibrating as he raced circles around Jefferson.

 

"Well… I was going to say you could probably fix it if you straighten out the wire first."

 

"What are you, a hatter?" It hopped up to snap in his face.

 

"Well, yes."

 

The hare finally stilled, stared at him. "Oh. Good for you, hatter! Now, out of the way! I'm off to tea and the cat never waits."

 

"The cat… Wouldn't a cat… eat you?"

 

The hare skidded to a stop again. "Eat me? Eat me? Do cats eat hares?"

 

"Yes, my fine furry friend."

 

Jefferson froze. He knew that purr. He'd had nightmares about that purr. Turning to his right, Jefferson stared into the ghoulish grin he'd expected. It continued smiling, teeth glittering in even the low light as a set of whiskers then snout then body materialized around it.

 

"Though I prefer dormouses. Hello, Hatter. Long time… no… _see_. How'd the whisker work?"

 

Jefferson took a few steps back for safety from the floating, rotating, flashing cat.

 

"Dormouses? You eat dormouses, Cat! Well, remind me never to invite the Dormouse to one of your teas. He'll go berserk. I doubt you have enough jam!" The hare kicked around them, barking loudly. He elbowed Jefferson. "So you know the hatter, Cat?"

 

"Yes, we're _old_ friends." He let his head drift down to the hare, "I set it up with its love. A local. Delicious necktie."

 

"Oooh. Scintillating."

 

"Indeed. So, Hatter, the whisker? Did it _serve_ its purpose?"

 

"I… think so. Cheshire cat, can you tell me something? Straight?"

 

"Oh, well, that depends on the angle of the question, but I'll try." The cat folded his paws on top of the hare's hat, rested his chin.

 

Jefferson sighed. It was worth a try, at least. "Have you… heard any news about someone new? A strange woman in Wonderland?"

 

The cat grinned. "You'll have to be more specific. Everyone's strange in Wonderland and everyday's new."

 

"No, I mean a person who isn't from here, who wasn't born here."

 

"Like… you?"

 

Jefferson rubbed his hands over his face. "Yes, like me, but a woman."

 

"Yoooooou're not a woman?" The cat purred, painting and erasing parts of himself with his tail.

 

"No, Cat, that's a man. You can tell by the ears," the hare hopped up and pointed to Jefferson's face. "Those are definitely male ears."

 

"Oh, human gender is sooooo unspecific."

 

"It's not my ears," Jefferson grunted, slapping aside the hare's paw. "And it shouldn't matter. A new person, hell, anything new in Wonderland?"

 

"The Queen!" The hare trounced lightly in front of him with bulging eyes.

 

"Yes, the Queen. Quite right, Hare."

 

"The Queen?!" The hare gasped in horror, pulling his hat down over his eyes until he was peeking out the top of it. "Where?"

 

"Not here, Hare. The Queen is new."

 

"The Queen is new? As in not the same one as when last I was here?"

 

The cat flexed his claws, nodded. "Yesssss, the Queen is dead, long live the Queen."

 

"Long live the Queen!" The Hare echoed back.

 

"And this is the Queen…?"

 

"Of Hearts, of course. You're far, far away from the realms of the Red and White Queens."

 

Jefferson nodded. That seemed good enough. "The Queen of Hearts. And judging by your rabbit friend's terror--"

 

"Hare!"

 

"The March Hare, clearly."

 

"Yes, yes, your March Hare's terror she is just as ruthless with the axe as the previous Queen."

 

"Ruthlesser."

 

"Yes. Would have cut off the head of any newcomer that happened into her kingdom by accident?"

 

The Cheshire cat curled and uncurled his tail. "Oh, undoubtedly. Off with their head!" He plucked his own off, perched it on the hare's hat.

 

Jefferson sighed in relief. "Great."

 

"Is it? You're cruel, Hatter…"

 

"No, no, I mean… well, yes, great. If you haven't heard of a powerful, strange witch, then this new, crueler Queen of Hearts must have already found her and gotten rid of her. My employer will be pleased."

 

"Mmm… employer… your _employer_ sounds like an interesting individual."

 

"Does it taste good? This employer?"

 

Jefferson nodded, not really paying them any mind. "Yes, yes. Right. Now I need mushrooms for growing and shrinking."

 

The Hare pulled his hat up off his face and perched it atop his folded ears. "The growshrooms are over there." He pointed out to both sides of his body. "And the shrinkshrooms are over there." He pointed both behind and in front of him.

 

The Cheshire cat purred a chortle out, "what my overenthusiastic friend is attempting to tell you, Hatter, is that the mushrooms you're looking for are all around you. Just take from one side to grow and the other to shrink. Or the whole to stay the same… I think."

 

Jefferson offered an uncertain smile. "Alright… thank you."

 

"Anytime, Hatter… be _seeing_ you…" the cat flickered out of sight, leaving Jefferson feeling significantly unsettled.

 

The Hare bounced nervously around him for a few seconds and then darted off jabbering about jam. Jefferson collected a few mushrooms from the side of the path and then marched quickly back up the way.

 

"Oh, and Hatter? Shun the frumious Bandersnatch, beware the shadows' claws… and don't open any doors you can't close, eh?" The Cheshire cat's jarring cackle echoed around the forest as Jefferson fell into a full sprint. The cat's words were still ringing in his ears as he leapt through the Looking Glass.

 

Was it nonsense? Another whimsical rhyme from Wonderland or something else? He couldn't tell. Shaking his head hard, he stepped through the oaken door and into Rumpelstiltskin's work room.

 

"Oh my, hatter, you look as though you've seen a ghost!"

 

"You could say something like that. That cat really sticks with you…" he reached down and fished the mushrooms out of his satchel. "Mushrooms, one side grows, the other shrinks, I don't know which is which."

 

"The Cheshire Cat? Did you snag another whisker by chance?" Rumpelstiltskin giggled, taking the mushrooms and turning them over in his hands.

 

"Uh, no. Categorically, no. I got away from it as quickly as possible. I did find out beforehand, though, that your exile is probably dead."

 

"Probably? Probably? You trusted the mad cat with that assumption?!"

 

"And a nutty hare, but not really. It was their reactions. They hadn't heard about a stranger, but they were terrified of the recently coronated Queen of Hearts who's apparently even more axe happy than the last Queen. In case you didn't know, the last Queen beheaded everyone who even rubbed her the wrong way. This one is bound to have taken off a trespasser's head immediately, especially a trespasser with ambition or power."

 

Rumpelstiltskin considered him for a rare moment of quiet. "I see… very well. Take as much gold as you need. I'll… be in touch." 

 

Jefferson bowed away and turned to the Imp's enormous pile of gold spinning. He stuffed as much as he could in his satchel, into his pockets, even underneath his hat and then stepped back into the hat's door room. He was out in the forest in a flash, hurrying home. By the look of the sun overhead, he'd only been gone for a few hours. He would most certainly make it home before suppertime.

 

Hope was peeling potatoes when he stepped inside, a bedraggled look on her face. That disappeared as soon as she looked up and caught sight of him.

 

"Oh, thank goodness, I had the most ominous feeling after you left, but you're back, you're fine. How'd it go?"

 

Jefferson set aside the hat box, pulled around his satchel and began unloading the gold onto their kitchen table, from his pockets, from his hat. "As well as it could have gone considering."

 

"Considering!?" Hope gazed wide eyed at his payload. "Considering what? How difficult it was to pack all that gold in your trousers?"

 

"No, considering that the imp sent me to Wonderland."

 

Hope stiffened. "Wonderland? Why?"

 

"Oh, some mushrooms and some news. Nothing big, which is why I'm back so early." Jefferson stooped over Grace's crib and lifted her up. "And I'm glad I am, so I can see my dear Grace."

 

He kissed her on top her head, on her cheeks and then hugged her close, so glad to be back with her. Then he pulled Hope into his arm and held her tight, too, smelling her hair. "And my dear Hope. That place makes me feel crazy. It's even worse now, believe it or not."

 

"How so?"

 

"New Queen of Hearts who happens to be even more homicidal. Even the Cheshire Cat seemed wary of her. It's different now, too, felt like the air was closer. And…" he trailed off thinking about the cat's last words to him.

 

"And?"

 

"And somehow that cat's become even more infuriatingly oblique. Do you know the lines 'shun the frumious Bandersnatch, beware the shadows' claws'?"

 

Hope leaned out of his embrace. "The first part, about the Bandersnatch, is from the Jabberwock song, but the shadows' claws is different. It doesn't belong."

 

"Of course," Jefferson sighed and settled Grace cooing back into her cradle. "Well, it chanted that at me and followed it up with a warning not to open any doors I can't close."

 

Hope shuddered.

 

"Yes, that was the exact reaction I had."

 

"I never liked that cat, Jefferson. It always left me feeling like someone was walking over my grave. There were rumors, too, that it knew the future, that when it disappeared like it does it didn't always reappear in the now. In any case, it knows practically everything. Maybe you should listen to it, not go opening any portals any time soon."

 

With Grace laid back down, he gathered Hope all the way to his chest, held her there until he couldn't feel her anymore. Going back to Wonderland made him remember how much he wanted to be there, be in his home, with this gem he stole away from that place. The cat had a point, a creepy point, but a point.

 

"Maybe I won't, not without you, at least."

 

"Speaking of," Hope leaned back to look up into his face. "Do you know you have a neighbor round the bend?"

 

"Yes, Mr. Porter, or I did have if he's still alive." 

 

"That's the one, Mr. Porter. I met his daughter, Geraldine in the backwoods today. She was gathering berries when Grace and I were."

 

"I thought she'd moved away, did so before I lived here."

 

"So she said, but she had to move back when her husband was killed. It was just her with three near grown boys, she couldn't handle it. So, yes, she's moved back and we got to talking, she was just enchanted with Grace, said she missed hers being small and being around. Now they work the fields all day and go to school. Anyway, we ended up chatting for an hour or so and she invited me round for tea and cakes. Theirs is a nice, clean home and Mr. Porter might be ancient but he's a kind man. As I was saying, we had some lunch and she asked me all about things, about the two of us getting used to the baby and about how life is different. She remembers, of course. And finally, I mentioned how it's hard, the two of us never being alone, and well, long story told short, she offered to take Grace for the whole day tomorrow if we're interested."

 

Hope was bouncing on her toes in his arms, like she used to. It made him smile.

 

"And you trust her?"

 

"I mean, I went round her house, met her father and her boys; they were all very kind and well-mannered and you know Mr. Porter."

 

"I do."

 

"And she seemed so excited to be around a baby again, even more so when I told her I would pay her." Hope bit her lip as she waited for Jefferson to react to that, even though he didn't feel the need to.

 

"If you think it's a good idea then I am completely in agreement. And paying her after the fact will discourage kidnapping."

  
Hope lightly smacked his arm as she disentangled herself from him. "Great! I told her I'd call round this evening to let her know. We can send over after supper?"

 

"That's fine," Jefferson answered, grabbing her around the middle and kissing her cheek. "Well done, Mama."

 

"And well done, Papa," she sung back, indicating the gold on the table. "Shall I get this stowed away? Then, I can continue peeling our supper."

 

Jefferson helped Hope pack the gold into their coffer and then took the hat box back to its chest in the cellar. When he came back up she was singing to herself. It was the Jabberwock song. He could tell because he recognized the Cheshire cat's line. Fighting off a shiver, he unloaded his hat kit on the work bench and grabbed his whet stone from the kitchen table.

 

"Working on something?" Hope asked, eyeing the shears.

 

"I am. I thought I'd make your new friend a gardening hat as a gift, for helping us and for her loss."

 

Hope nodded and turned back to the potatoes. "That's very thoughtful, Jefferson, a good idea. I'd say she's about my size, though you might want to go bigger just in case."

 

Jefferson and Hope spent their evening each at their own tasks but they kept at their chatting for once, even when Grace got fussy and tried to scream over them. Hope was just so excited about the day to themselves she couldn't keep quiet. By the time they set out to inform Geraldine she had about fifteen things planned, twenty-four by the time they arrived back home. She even continued randomly spouting activities as they lay in bed, startling him awake and once perhaps even herself.

 

Of course, when the morning actually came around she was reluctant to let Grace go, coddling her and muttering nonsense about her forgetting their faces in the meantime. Jefferson had to pry her from Hope's clutches to hand her to a very patient and extremely understanding Ms. Porter. After a few words about loving her hat, it being just a day, and to enjoy themselves, she'd shooed Hope and Jefferson off her porch and left them to their own devices. Hilariously, the first thing they both did was to lay back in bed, presumably to hold one another while finalizing the day's plans, but they actually ended up sleeping until a little before noon.

 

"First day to ourselves and we slept half of it away!" Hope was fuming.

 

"It's fine. We clearly needed the rest," Jefferson answered, ducking out of the way of Hope's furious bed-making. "There's still plenty of time. Ms. Porter said there was no hurry. I bet we could even wait until after sundown to collect Grace."

 

"Six hours, Jefferson. Six beautiful hours we could have been talking, exploring new parts of the woods, _having sex_."

 

"Well, that's ambitious, even for us," Jefferson snarked. 

 

But Hope only sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed, her ire too spent even to snap at his glibness. "I just wanted to not be a mother for a day… well, no. That sounds bad, not be a _new_ mother for a day, not be dawn to dawn parents just once. And conscious of it. That's all I wanted."

 

Jefferson got up from the bed, came to stand in front of her, arms crossed. "And you still can. For… seven more hours. Unless, of course, you want to spend some of that whining, in which case we can aim for six instead-- oof." He caught the hurled pillow and set it back behind Hope again. The pillow-hurl was a good sign.

 

"Yes, fine. I'm over it. Just… we're not going to the market today. We can go tomorrow and eat from the forest again today."

 

"Good. Excellent. Wonderful. That's the plan then. So. What first? I'm up for any of those things."

 

Hope let her face drop into her hands. "Gracious… you know? I know I just said I didn't want to go to market today, but I want tea. A whole damn pot of tea. To myself." She looked back up at him over her fingertips. "I already prepared to feed Grace for the whole day. I can have tea, real, good, black tea."

 

Jefferson leaned over and kissed the top of her head. "That's alright. You stay here. I'll go over to the inn."

 

Of course, honestly, he had been hoping she'd choose the sex option -- five months of nothing but his hand was becoming a little frustrating, but it was unavoidable -- though, obviously, he was happy to put his trousers back on and go to the inn. Not really, but if it put Hope in a better mood, made her happy even, it was well worth it.

 

She was in the bath when he got back, a towel draped over her face.

 

"And just how did you draw that bath?" He asked, setting the tea tin down on the table.

 

"Superhuman strength due to desperation," she mumbled back, peeling the towel off her face. "You'd be astounded just how far desire can take you."

 

"You didn't hurt yourself did you?"

 

"Beyond burning myself from not putting enough cold water in, no. How was the inn?"

 

"Dead. Do you want your first cup in the bath?"

 

"Mmm. Do you know what I was thinking as I sat here? I couldn't remember it being this quiet in the house for this long. It got to the point where I was literally hearing the silence. It was all very surreal."

 

Jefferson chuckled as he put the kettle on the fire.

 

"And, do you know what else? I realized that I'd forgotten just what a hot bath feels like. Actually hot. Every time I've gotten in this tub in the past months it's either been lukewarm because something came up or lukewarm so I could bathe Grace. I like hot water."

 

"Apparently you like too hot water." Jefferson dipped a hand in, shook it dry. "The whole of you is going to be red like a lobster and steaming when you get out."

 

"Oh, no. No, no, no. I'm not getting out of here any time soon enough for all that. I plan on being a wrinkled prune when I get out."

 

"Then I'll just have to get in there with you to steal some time with you."

 

Hope peeled open a single eye. "Oh, would you? How luxuriant. A bath together."

 

He nodded and took off his coat, pausing to pour the water into the pot.

 

"Hmm." Hope was now watching him alertly, both eyes open. She followed him as he continued undressing. "I don't think I've seen you properly undress in weeks. And then it was to wash the clothes off your back."

 

"No time," he shrugged. "I only barely snagged time to bathe."

 

"I know. Take off your trousers next," she said calmly as he laid his necktie over the chair back.

 

Jefferson raised a brow, but complied, kicking off his boots first.

 

"Shorts, socks, shirt and waistcoat. A lovely look," Hope giggled and then waved her hand at the teapot. "Don't let it over-steep!"

 

"Yes, ma'am," he sighed, shaking his head and stepping back to the counter.

 

Hope had the most adoring look on her face when he turned back.

 

"What?"

 

"You're so good. I don't tell you that enough. You're just so good. At taking care of me, of Grace, at being a good man on your own. I'm impressed."

 

Jefferson scoffed. "No. Circumstances… I'm not… it's just…"

 

"Oh, take the compliment and give me my tea, silly."

 

* * *

 

 

The tea was singularly fantastic. Hope drank it with all her senses, except her sight which she reserved for Jefferson. She'd been serious before. She hadn't seen him properly undressed in far too long. For decency and ease of care, they never slept naked anymore, never bathed around one another. Someone always had to be ready to take care of Grace.

 

He looked thin. She couldn't be disappointed, she looked fat still. It wasn't that, it was that she was worried about him. He felt good, the same, though, as he slipped into the bath behind her. His chest was still solid, his legs still long.

 

"This is ridiculously hot, Hope," he muttered as he reached towards the counter and grabbed his own cup. "How did you stand it?"

 

"I sat down and was too tired to get up," she explained in all honestly. Jefferson laughed.

 

"Superhuman strength, huh?"

 

"Only for a split second, then it was very, very heavy."

 

He chuckled again, sweeping her hair off her shoulders and back, wringing it out and twisting it behind her head. He kissed the back of her neck as he stuck a hat pin through the knot. "There. Now I can see you."

 

Hope fought the urge to hide. She still felt stretched, distended, not quite herself yet. Jefferson didn't seem to care, running his free hand over everything, her arms and breasts, stomach and thighs. He sighed into her hair and settled on cupping one breast. Hope relaxed a bit, laid back her head on his shoulder. It felt so good, so refreshing, both in his arms and in the hot water, she couldn't feel insecure for too long.

 

"How's the tea?" He asked eventually, lips on the rim of her ear.

 

"So, so, so good. Thank you."

 

"Mmm, I've missed it, too. And these…" he set down his cup, took both breasts in hand. "I'm fair at sharing, but it only counts as such when I get time as well."

 

"Believe me, I wish it were a more equal division of time." Hope moaned quietly as he began massaging, lightly whispering fingertips over her oversensitive nipples. "This is much, much better than what normally happens to them."

 

"I could do that too, though a little differently, if you turned around." He didn't seem focused on her turning around though, slipping a hand down and petting between her legs.

 

Hope shuddered, almost dropping her cup into the water.

 

"I'll take that," Jefferson said, snatching it away to safety while still working at making her shiver.

 

She didn't have words to reply, the heat of the water and the pressure of his fingers took them away from her. She rolled her head back further, reached a hand up to his hair, using the other to prop herself on his thigh. It made her mind melt away, being touched by him again, made her breath flutter. With her back arched, Jefferson could kiss the edge of her collarbone, leave it feeling hotter than the water.

 

"Your lips," Hope managed to say, though she'd intended more, but that was the gist. She'd missed his lips.

 

Surprisingly easily, she turned around in the water, folded her legs about either side of his hips. He was sitting up now, ready to catch her, but not ready for her to catch him. He'd been ready for some minutes now, Hope had felt him pressing against her back. Her little surprise made his lips all the better when she took that bottom one between her teeth. It was an ideal use of several minutes. Eventually, though, Hope needed both her hands to better balance.

 

Jefferson groaned when she reached instead around his shoulders. "Damn bath tub."

 

Hope laughed lightly. "We're multi-tasking."

 

"You're multi-tasking. I'm sitting in a tub, slipping and sliding." He'd just tried to get a firm hold of her bottom and lift her tighter onto his lap and had failed.

 

Hope sat forward, shifting onto her knees. "Better?"

 

"Mmm," he hummed into her chest, made her hiss as he took a nipple gingerly in his mouth.

 

"Careful." She didn't really want him to be careful, his tongue felt exhilarating, but she also didn't want her body mistaking him for Grace.

 

Jefferson laughed around her and let go of her nipple with a pop. "Need I respond to that?"

 

"No," she replied sheepishly.

 

He planted a few more soft, wet kisses over her breasts and then took a firmer hold of her hips. "Come here."

 

Hope followed his tugging, sinking back onto his lap with a gasp. Everything felt different. Jefferson didn't seem to notice, only to feel relieved. He pressed deep into and against her with his eyes shut and a groan that reached to his toes. That was satisfying in itself, watching his face as he moved inside of her. After a few seconds of adjustment, Hope unclenched her fingers from his hair and ran them instead over his shoulders and arms, letting him know she was ready. He responded slowly, opening his eyes to watch her.

 

"Are you all right?"

 

She nodded, lips pressed together in concentration.

 

"Hope."

 

"I'm fine. Damn bath tub," she said, hoping that was the problem. Jefferson nodded once and then scared her silly, standing up suddenly with her still hooked around his waist. Out of the tub he laid her down on the kitchen table and leaned back.

 

"Better?"

 

Hope giggled a little squeakily, mostly from the shock. "Yes. I didn't know you could do that."

 

Jefferson almost looked offended. "I may be skinny but I'm not weak."

 

"No, I meant… with me all…"

 

"All… what? You're a tiny little bundle of hair and eyes. You weigh as much as a sack of flour soaking wet. As I now know for sure."

 

"That's just a lie. I'm huge."

 

"No," he shook his head and began rocking against her in tiny, slow motions. "And now's when you say that I'm not skinny."

 

"You're not skinny. Though you have lost a lot of weight."

 

He stopped.  
 

"What? I'm worried. You're not eating enough."

 

He set his jaw and took a deep breath. "Hope, you said you didn't want to be Mama today, so stop. Stop worrying about how much everyone eats while I make… love to you… sort of."

 

Hope laughed and covered her face in her hands. "This is so sad! You've laid me over the kitchen table and all I can think about is my breast milk and the amount of eggs I can spare to fatten you up! Okay. Okay. I'm done. I'm focused. Let's resume."

 

Jefferson groaned, let his forehead fall on the table beside her ear. "It's gone. The moment's over."

 

"No, no, no. No, it's not. See?" She grabbed his bottom to keep him from slipping away and then kissed him deeply. When he hummed low and rough against her mouth she pulled away, whispered as seductively as she could muster, "teach me how again."

 

It worked. The moment returned and Hope had to scrub the dinner table twice over later that day.

 

"I can't believe I did that to you on this table." Jefferson hadn't bothered putting any clothing on as he took up a washcloth and joined Hope's washing. "We eat here."

 

"You kind of ate here, too."

 

Jefferson laughed so hard he had to stop scrubbing. "Quite the mouth on you today."

 

"I finally feel like myself again," Hope quipped back, adding an appreciative pat to his bum for good measure.

 

"I wonder how many days a week Ms. Porter would be willing to watch Grace, even for just an hour or so…"

 

"I don't know, but I'm willing to not have tea if that means we can pay her for that."

 

Jefferson set down his cloth and pinned his arms on either side of her, providing reason for the second round of cleaning. It was comforting for Hope to know that he'd missed her embrace as much as she'd missed his, perhaps even more.

 

"It might be easier just to buy a new table," he commented afterwards.

 

"It might be easier if you put some clothing on."

 

"No, it might be easier if we both put clothing on. As things are this is just a honey trap." Jefferson bent over and grabbed Hope by the waist, tossing her over his shoulder. "Come on, we're getting dressed. That way we can frolic through the woods and cross all three of your things you wanted to do off your list before picking up Grace."

 

"Maybe we can find plants and new places to be inappropriately intimate!" Hope giggled vibrantly and ran her fingers up and down his spine.

 

"Maybe," Jefferson chuckled back.

 


	4. Et Cetera Allowing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regina pays a visit and the new parents take their first trip together post-partum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There could be some possibly triggering themes in this chapter with allusions to substance abuse and addiction. It's all wrapped up in storybook versions but the effects and struggle surrounding it are essentially the same.

Ms. Porter was a very accommodating woman, and with her help, things became a little more, not only regular, but endurable. Hope and Jefferson got a few hours a week to themselves to be a man and a woman together and to recuperate from the exhaustion of having a child. Grace was growing very quickly and hit so many milestones it was hard to keep up. The speed of it astounded even Hope and Jefferson, who could not believe it when her first birthday arrived. Jefferson had hardly survived the first time she said her first word, 'papa.'  In fact, the both of them had wasted the entire day cooing 'mama' and 'papa' at her and falling into fits of excitement when she'd parrot it back. Her first step gave them a rush of fear and then pride, and they watched her do new things with expectant joy, but neither of them had accounted for the fact that time was actually passing, that she was actually getting older.

 

Hope greeted the day with a mixture of excitement and sadness.

 

"What's wrong, my love?" Jefferson asked, standing up from bed behind her as she stared down into Grace's crib. "It's early, even for you."

 

He must have felt the absence of her beside him. That had started to happen, he'd stopped sleeping well when she was not breathing against his skin. Hope understood that feeling, that twinge of absence. She felt that way every time he stayed up late to work on a project and didn't come crawling into bed until the deep of the night.

 

"She's one year old, Jefferson. Our sweet, little Grace has been on this earth for a whole year. It passed like that." She snapped quietly and then sighed. "I feel like I wasn't paying enough attention."

 

"No," he purred into her neck, squeezing his arms around her. "We were just too tired to keep the time."

 

"Maybe. I just don't want to miss anything, to run out of firsts. What'll happen when nothing's new?"

 

Jefferson snorted. "Then I'll put another child inside of you and we'll watch it all again in miserable exhaustion." He kissed the top of her head and tugged on her waist. "Come on, lie back down with me while she's still sleeping. We'll practice."

 

Grace, faultless timing that she had, began crying just as he pushed inside of Hope.

 

"Blazes," Jefferson hissed and climbed off, slapping his face lightly as Hope scrambled to pull her nightshirt back on.

 

"I'm here, Grace. Mama's here… and now frustrated, but it'll be fine, it's your birthday! Yes, it is, your very first one!" She crooned gently and lifted Grace from the cradle. "Papa will be right back to wish you happy birthday, too. You just interrupted something, you did. But that's okay because it's your special day."

 

Jefferson strode back into the room a minute or so later, his happy papa face beaming. "Happy birthday, my dear Grace!" He lifted her into his arms and spun around, making her laugh hysterically.

 

She shrieked 'yay' when he stopped, indicating that she wanted more spins. Jefferson complied and then set her down in her crib, where she hoisted herself up on her feet and the rail to stare at him.

 

"Are you ready for your birthday breakfast?"

 

She cooed and reached out, staring at him like he was the only thing in the whole world worth looking at.

 

"Yes, I think so," Hope chimed in, patting Jefferson on the back. "I was thinking big girl food today could be some porridge and mashed apples. I'll go liven the hearth if you'll change her."

 

Jefferson nodded and kept grinning at Grace, only catching Hope as she started to walk away. "During her nap," he muttered in her ear and then kissed her with more teeth than tongue, leaving Hope to make the porridge in a spell of heat. She stoked the flames and momentarily considered just heating the oats on the skin of her chest.

 

Now that Grace was eating food, mushy though it was, Hope was feeling even more back to her old self. It also helped that Jefferson was as well, neither of them having to ration out food portions and both sleeping better. He'd put his weight back on and the light had come back to his eyes. Hope too felt healthier, less self-conscious. Overall, she had no reason to be pining over the fact that her child's infanthood was soon to be behind them. Nonetheless, she felt like this milestone was significant, that it would mark a different kind of end.

 

Sure enough, she was right. It was an end to their privacy.

 

"Shush, shush, Grace, darling. I know, it's a big day and the sun's so bright and the birds so loud, but it's your nap time." Hope rubbed Grace's tummy and hummed soothingly as she kicked and squirmed. "Jefferson," she hissed and glared over her shoulder. "Take your clothes off now, or so help me--"

 

He held his hands up and began peeling off layers. Hope turned back to Grace and kept humming.

 

"Twinkle, twinkle, little bat! How I wonder what you're at! Up above the world you fly, like a tea-tray in the--" Hope whipped around at the loud banging she heard coming from downstairs. Someone was knocking at the front door. "…sky. Come here, darling. It seems it's not nap time after all."

 

She stormed from the room, Jefferson trailing as he tried to yank his clothes back on.

 

"Who in the world could be knocking like such assuming… _bats_ … on our door on your birthday? Hmm?" Hope paused by Jefferson's workbench and grabbed Hope's kitty and bubby to keep her quiet. With her suckling away, Hope marched back towards the pounding of the door, only to be passed up by Jefferson.

 

He grabbed her by the shoulders and whirled her around. "I don't know who it is, but the force of the knocking doesn't bode well. Please… just stand back and I'll take care of this."

 

Hope was ready to argue the point but Jefferson's face was foreboding. "You're worried it's the Queen."

 

He nodded.

 

"Fine--fine," she dropped her voice to a whisper as the pounding persisted louder. "I will stand back, but I'm not leaving this room. She's not doing anything to you without getting a pair of scissors thrown at her chest first."

 

Jefferson offered her a weak smile and kissed her forehead. "Thank you, my love."

 

"Mm-hmm. My love. My love'll rip her throat right out, evil, heart-snatching b--"

 

"HELLO, your Majesty. Good afternoon." Jefferson shouted over Hope's profanity and then opened the door wider. "To what do we owe this… unexpected pleasure?"

 

"Please, Jefferson. Dispense with the affectation and formalities. We both know why I'm here, and it's not for a cup of tea."

 

"Of course. _Please_ , come in. Make yourself at home," Jefferson grumbled, affect aside as Regina barged inside flanked with guards.

 

"I see you've kept your Wonderlandian consort. That decree of citizenship was not in vain, at least. Holly, was it?"

 

"Hope," she curtsied with a snarl.

 

"Yes, Hope. How could I forget? Now, Jefferson, I need you to fetch something for me, something powerful, from the White Witch. That won't be a problem will it?" Regina asked Jefferson though looking predatorily at Hope.

 

"Which White Witch? Are you talking--"

 

"Jadis, yes. I need her curse, the Deplorable Word." The Queen was about an inch from Jefferson's face at this point, just daring him to question her. "Will you retrieve it, or do you need _proper motivation_ again?"

 

Hope winced as the Queen reached towards her but the pull at the roots of her chest ended almost immediately, a strangely welcome cackle filling the room.

 

"Sorry, dearie, no can do! The hatter is contracted to me alone, and I don't like the sound of this _Deplorable Word_. I imagine no one would."

 

Regina whipped back to Jefferson her hand fisted in his necktie. Hope wanted to react. That close-mouthed look on Jefferson's face, how close her hand was to his heart, it all made her bile rise, but Rumpelstiltskin was somehow preventing her from moving.

 

"What did you do, Jefferson? Didn't I warn you not to make yourself useless to me?"

 

"I--"

 

"Again, dearie, I have to be the one to apologize. Dire circumstances, wanting to save his lady love, willing to do _anything_ for her life -- you know how that is -- and I wanted exclusivity. I got it." The imp hopped up from Jefferson's armchair where he'd appeared and waved away Regina from Jefferson's neck. "No hard feelings?"

 

The Queen's lips were pursed, nose flaring. It was clear she knew she was beaten but hated it to her very marrow. "Fine, _Dark One_ , but you'll slip up one of these days and I'll find a way around you and your loopholes and you won't be the most powerful in this world anymore. You're weak in there," she stabbed a finger towards his chest, "and you'll only lose power from here on out. Mark my words. And Jefferson, when he's gone, you had better _hope_ that you're still useful and I find it in my heart to show you mercy. Guards!"

 

Turning hard on the ball of her foot, Regina, her cloak and skirts billowing harshly with each step stormed out of their sitting room, guards on her heels and slamming the door behind them.

 

"Well, that was exciting. I'm glad you called me, hatter, I like to flex my power now and again. Now, if that is all, I shall see you later." The imp looked expectantly from Jefferson to Hope back to Jefferson again and then vanished in a puff of smoke.

 

"I hate magic," Hope grumbled to herself and turned to where she'd taken a pair of wire shears from and replaced them. "I hate magic and I hate that entitled witch of a queen. It's bad when you are thankful that the Dark One turns up in your kitchen unannounced."

 

"Truly," Jefferson agreed with shaking voice, he was slowly untying his necktie.

 

"Are you okay?"

 

"Yes… she just got a little forceful before the imp stepped in. Her magic's gotten more powerful recently."

 

Hope ran her hand over his neck, the skin red, then over his chest. His heart was still beating in there, now hard and fast. "I'm glad you called him, then. Do you… do you think she would've--"

 

"There's no telling. She's only getting darker and darker. The curse she was asking after, it destroyed a whole world, the witch's world, all the people and animals with one word and left just her alive. That's evil, that's worse than anything Regina's plotted up until this point." Jefferson shook his head as he rubbed at his neck some more. "I think Rumpelstiltskin, maniacal as he is, was exercising a degree of planning _against_ annihilation when he enlisted me to exclusivity. Not necessarily out of altruism, but his selfish desire to remain alive may have saved our world."

 

Hope shuddered and shifted a now dozing Grace to her other hip. "Again, I hate magic."

 

* * *

The next time Rumpelstiltskin came to call, Grace had a terrible cold and was a very fussy toddler. Hope was out trying to find some of the last herbs to survive the heavy snowfall to help her cough and had left Jefferson to try to feed Grace, since he was the only one she'd eat for when she was in that state. Needless to say, he was not exactly primed to be receptive or hospitable to the imp's characteristic frivolity, or his business offer.

 

"No. Not even if you paid me my weight in gold am I going back to Wonderland. I already hated the place before its more recent descent somehow further into madness. And not with a daughter and Hope needing things that they can't get from a suddenly headless portal jumper. No." He tried and failed to sneak a spoonful of beans into Grace's alternately wailing and 'no'ing mouth. "Besides, her mama would kill me after the Cheshire cat's last freakish poem recitation."

 

Rumpelstiltskin twiddled his fingers and tried to parry back some wit but was out-shouted by little Grace. He wrinkled his nose and asked, "why is she making all that noise? What's wrong with her? Can't you stop it?"

 

"Gee, Imp, if I knew how don't you think I would have already? She has a cold. She's miserable and cranky. Nothing will stop it."

 

"Ech, what kind of father can't stop his own child from crying?" Rumpelstiltskin waved his hand and Grace sat back looking astounded. "There. Much better."

 

"What? What did you do? Grace are you alright?" Jefferson was on his feet immediately, looking in her face and feeling her chest.

 

"Papa weee?" She sweetly asked, holding out her arms to be picked up.

 

Jefferson relaxed, picked Grace up like she'd asked and cradled her close, then turned a hard eye on the imp.

 

"Oh, I took care of her problem. And now she's quiet, we can talk arrangements."

 

"I already told you, I'm not going back to Wonderland."

 

"I only need you to check in on this new Queen of Hearts, nothing more. Simply gather a few more local opinions. I will _literally_ pay you your weight in gold," he giggled maliciously.

 

Jefferson narrowed his eyes. "No. Especially not now."

 

"'No' what?" Hope was standing in the back door, basket empty on her arm.

 

"No going back to Wonderland, " Jefferson replied, expecting Hope's immediate endorsement of his decision. He was wrong.

 

"Mmm, maybe not 'no' right now. I could go with you, gather some herbs. I need some more dreamberries."

 

"Dreamberry? Why?"

 

"I'm almost out."

 

"How?"

 

Hope cleared her throat and shook her head as if to say not to push the subject anymore. "I've been using it for things. Bottom line: I need some more, and I can help you navigate and not get lost. With a new Queen I'm not in danger anymore. What do you need?"

 

Rumpelstiltskin tittered. "Gossip, dearie."

 

"Well, I know where to get that, too. We should accept Jefferson. I can take Grace round the bend. It'll be fine."

 

Jefferson took a step towards her, lowered his voice. "Hope, I don't want to end up like my parents. I don't want Grace living a life like mine and Wonderland's a good way to speed that _possible_ future along into a _very real_ present."

 

"Yes, well, you're very capable and I'm very knowledgeable and neither of us are even remotely negligent. It won't happen. And money's getting tight again. Remember? We didn't get meat last market trip?"

 

"Hope…" he sighed and pressed the palm of his hand to his face.

 

"Mama weeee?"

 

Handing Grace over to Hope Jefferson turned back around to Rumpelstiltskin. "Two conditions, no approaching the Castle of Hearts, no one's being turned into gold. I'll take regular payment."

 

The imp waved his hands in glee. "We have a deal! Good doing business with you, Hope. Ta ta!"

 

"Buggy bye!" Grace replied as he vanished, leaving her parents to stalk silently around the house as they readied for the trip.

 

Jefferson was the first to break the silence. "Grace has been sick all week, Hope."

 

"As if I didn't know that, Jefferson," she scoffed back. "I never agreed to going there  _today_." She placed Grace on her kitchen pallet and knelt down in front of her. "Although, if I'm not mistaken, she's well. I imagine he had something to do with that. A good thing, too. The whole forest is dead."

 

"Hope, what's going on with the dreamberry powder?"

 

She looked immensely guilty for a fraction of a second. "I can't sleep anymore, Jefferson. Not without it."

 

"What?"

 

"It started a few months after Grace was born. I just couldn't sleep, I was anxious and jittery about everything. The dreamberry powder helped me fall asleep, and now… I can't fall asleep ever unless I take a little before bed." She raised her shoulders as if to hide between them and then dropped them slowly. "I didn't know what else to do."

 

"You could talk to me about it." Jefferson stepped in front of her, ducked his head until she looked back up at him. "Not sleeping for almost two years is maybe something you should discuss with me. I could try to help, to get you help. Hope…"

 

She batted away a stray strand of her hair and pushed away from him. "I'm fine."

 

"Obviously you're not. This can't be good for you."

 

"It's a berry, Jefferson. What's the worst a berry could do to you?"

 

"Kill you."

 

Her face blanched, but then she set her jaw and turned away. She was finished with the conversation. "If it's _poisonous_. I'm going to find Geraldine, ask her to take Grace for tomorrow."

 

Jefferson was torn as he played with Grace, waiting for Hope to return. She was not keen on discussing the matter, and he didn't want to upset her if he could help it, but clearly something was wrong with her. It made him feel twitchy that he hadn't noticed anything. She hadn't been acting any differently, or not that he'd noticed which didn't mean anything. A lot had changed with them both after Grace's birth.

 

"Papa kiddy," Grace scolded him firmly, pointing to the pink kitten he was meant to be animating with her tortoise.

 

Jefferson forced a smile for his daughter and wiggled the kitten to life. He'd have to put off the issue anyway. Grace needed his full attention. But, that only lasted so long as Hope was away.

 

"Have you tried, _really tried_ , going to sleep without it lately?" He asked as soon as she walked back inside the house.

 

Hope sighed in loud exasperation and hurled her cloak onto the coat hanger.

 

Jefferson continued, "I could help. We could have a very busy day, wear you out… you can't even sleep after--" he stopped and glanced at Grace and then gave Hope a significant look that he figured would communicate his point.

 

"Sometimes after that, Jefferson, but we can't very well do that every night can we?"

 

"We could try," he grumbled, knowing she wouldn't take him seriously. "There's got to be something else. Something more… natural."

 

"Is it because it's from Wonderland? Because I could try to phase it out for poppy--"

 

"No, that's worse, that's… no. That's too close to magic. So is the dreamberry, to my mind, actually."

 

Hope rubbed her face in her hands. "I don't know what to tell you, Jefferson. I have to sleep. I could go to an apothecary, a healer--"

 

"How about a doctor?"

 

"A doctor?"

 

Jefferson nodded with finality. "I'll find you a doctor, someone who doesn't peddle snake oil or diddle in lower magics. I know a world where they are."

 

Hope looked sadly up at him and then nodded, resignation falling over her face. "Fine, Jefferson, whatever you thinks best. It was never my intention to worry you."

 

"I know that," he said pulling her to him. "You'd have said something similar to me if the circumstance were reversed, though. Would you not?"

 

"Yes," she admitted eventually, voice muffled against his chest.

 

"Good. Now, what did Ms. Porter say?"

 

"She actually said she could take her tonight if we needed to leave immediately."

 

"That may be best," Jefferson replied, thinking it over. "Yes, this way I can bring the doctor to you tonight and then we can get Wonderland out of the way tomorrow. Will she keep Grace overnight?"

 

Hope nodded, "she just asked that we bring the crib."

 

"I'll get the crib, you grab the silk pouch from the coffer. We'll pay her in the diamonds this time."

 

"The diamonds? I thought those were special--"

 

"They are, but we're worse off than I was letting on. That's… that's all that's left." He ran up the stairs as Hope sighed loudly.

 

"Who's keeping things from whom now?"

 

Grace was not happy to see her parents go several minutes later. She shrieked angrily from Ms. Porter's porch as Jefferson and Hope hurried away. It was a good thing they'd paid her with a diamond. That was going to be a trying night for her. Jefferson put that from his mind as he unlocked the chest in the basement, pulled out his hatbox. He had something more pressing to worry over, fixing her mother.

 

Hope was standing at the top of the stairs, staring down at him with her arms crossed. "And this doctor and his land, they're not dangerous, are they?"

 

Jefferson shrugged, "there isn't much magic in the land, a few weak curses here and there. And no, I don't think he's dangerous, just curious."

 

"How do you know him?" Hope asked.

 

"An old job," he replied as obliquely as possible. Hope wouldn't like the full answer.

 

The Greylands were a dreary, bleak, eerie place. If Jefferson thought the world was too bright in Wonderland, all this world's inhabitants found him comparably garish. It was raining when he stepped through. Just like the last time. With his coat pulled over his head, he ran for the castle on the hill, ignoring the stares of passersby. The huge imposing front doors rang as he dropped the knocker. Something felt awry here, too. The doors were scarred, the town around the castle pushed back as if propelled away by something. The manservant Jefferson had encountered last visit answered. His name he couldn't remember.

 

"Good evening… sir. Is the Doctor in?"

 

"Yes. Please, come in, Mr. …"

 

"Jefferson. Just Jefferson," he answered stepping inside and looking around. It was eerily quiet and empty inside this luxuriously enormous house. The walls were empty, draped in a dark curtain here and there. It looked like the whole place was in mourning.

 

"Yes, Mr. Jefferson. I'll inform the Doctor of your arrival promptly." He waved to the sparse seating. "Make yourself at home."

 

"Thank you," Jefferson replied hesitantly and edged towards the chairs. His coat screamed obnoxiously in this place, his necktie and waistcoat made his eyes hurt. He sat lightly on the edge of the chair, feeling more nervous than the last time he'd come here, then on a despicable errand. That was strange. How things had changed.

 

"What a pleasant surprise." The Doctor appeared at the top of the stairs and nodded towards Jefferson. "I did not expect to see anyone of your world here again. Has magic found its limits?"

 

Jefferson stood again, bowed his head briefly in response. "I have found the limits to its safety. I'm here for a favor, Doctor."

 

"Please, call me Victor, as friends would. And it is I who owe you a favor. Without your traveling I would not be so… successful." The doctor looked worn, his eyes dark, skin tight across his face.

 

"The heart worked?"

 

"In a manner of speaking, yes. Now, what can I do for you?" He waved for Jefferson to sit again, sat himself.

 

"Well, I'm not here for Rumpelstiltskin. This is a personal favor, for my… for a loved one."

 

The doctor nodded with a hum. "I see. And what is the problem? Not… _dead_ are they?"

 

"No, no. Not dead… she can't sleep. Well, she does sleep, but not without the powder of a particular berry."

 

"An addiction?"

 

"Something like that."

 

"To a serum?"

 

"Yes."

 

The doctor pressed his lips tight, shook his head slowly. "That is a shame. I think Dr. Jekyll would know better about such than I, though I will offer what assistance I can, _if_ you bring me another heart."

 

Jefferson recoiled. "Another? I thought you just said the first worked."

 

"It did. Experiments generally require more than one trial. And, if you want me to examine this woman, you'll have to bring her to me. I'll need my equipment."

 

Jefferson didn't know what to say. He couldn't get a heart, he couldn't even get within a mile of Regina's palace without fearing losing his own heart.

 

"Will that be a problem, Jefferson?"

 

"Uh… is there not anything else you would be willing to take as payment?"

 

The doctor shook his head. "I need nothing else."

 

Jefferson felt his shoulders sag. He needed Hope here for this, for her input. "Very well. I'll return with her and a heart shortly. You do keep odd hours, don't you, Frankenstein?"

 

"I do, indeed. 'Til then, hatter."

 

Jefferson cursed himself in the hat room. It was a stupid, stupid, suicidal plan. Regina had powerful magic. She would surely feel him opening a portal in her mother's vault. It didn't matter, he had to give it a try. The sound of thumping hearts was still as unsettling as it had been several years before. It made his skin crawl. Hopping out of the portal and to the nearest shelf, Jefferson grabbed the first glowing box he saw and then dove back through the door, just as a guardsman's thundering foot fall first shook the stairs. He was shaking when he got back into the hat. It was a good thing he was taking Hope to Frankenstein. Regina would be paying their home a visit, no doubt. She had to know that it was him.

 

Hope was pacing when Jefferson stepped back onto the stone of his cellar floor.

 

"So?"

 

"He'll do it, but you have to come to him."

 

She crinkled her nose. "To him? Where?"

 

"The Greylands," Jefferson answered. "And now. I may have stirred up some trouble here we'd do best not to be around for."

 

"Jefferson… what did you do?"

 

He held up the quietly beating box. "I stole from the Queen."

 

Hope's eyes grew wide. "You stole a heart? Whatever for, Jefferson?"

 

"The doctor's payment. Come on."

 

"Oh, no! I'm not going to any doctor that requires body parts to do his work!"

 

Jefferson stopped pulling on her arm. Dropped to look level with her eyes. "Please, Hope. He can help and without magic." He waited for her response and when none came, stepped away and twirled his hat back to life.

 

Hope was even more glaringly out of place in the Greylands than him, with her sunshine drenched hair and inexplicable glow to her skin. Nonetheless, Jefferson had expected her to be brighter. Perhaps she had begun to change and he just hadn't notice. That thought just made him tow her along faster towards Frankenstein's castle.

 

The doctor was surprisingly glib with the matter, a little too forward with Hope. Jefferson stepped in eventually and began talking for her, just because he didn't like the way the doctor was looking at her.

 

"It appears to me, Jefferson, that your wife suffers not so much from being impeded from sleeping but by the fact that she doesn't know how to anymore." He stepped away from the reclining chair he'd set Hope up in and put away his pocket watch. "I can easily elicit hypnotic repose, perhaps too easily. The conscious usually fights to some degree."

 

He clapped twice and leaned towards her, "you may awaken, Hope."

 

Her eyes fluttered open and then looked wildly between the two men. "Was I asleep?"

 

The doctor hummed his discontent. "Yes, you were. This is… unfortunate."

 

"Unfortunate how?"

 

The doctor paced to his strange humming equipment and picked up a notepad. "Well, I postulate that her control over her consciousness is somehow weaker. It is as if this berry has suppressed her mind's comprehension of what is awake and what is asleep. Has she had any blackouts? Episodes when you do not remember stretches of time?"

 

"No," Jefferson replied immediately, but felt his stomach sink when Hope tugged at his sleeve.

 

"Actually," she corrected him, shame in her voice, "yes.There are whole days I can't remember."

 

"But you never acted any differently!" Jefferson was sent reeling, half-way between anger and fear.

 

"It's as I feared," Frankenstein interrupted. "The berry can unhinge more than just the consciousness: also memory and perhaps even personas with enduring use. I recommend you cease use immediately."

 

Jefferson nodded hard. "Yes, we figured that part out ourselves. What should she do to sleep? Can you do nothing for that?"

 

Frankenstein shrugged. "Me? No. Unless you would like that I try shock therapy. I would suggest a wholesome diet with a balance of vegetables and grains, lighter on the meat and dairy; stringent daily exercise and a hot bath before bed." He smiled lightly at Jefferson's gawking dismay. "Perhaps a massage and a cup of chamomile tea as well? There are plenty of natural remedies to coax on sleep. I'm sure you two can attempt a few together even, but absolutely no more narcotics. I would wager she'll recover with time, her constitution et cetera allowing."

 

Jefferson didn't even fight the urge to deck the doctor in the face. It was only Hope's quick reflexes that stopped him.

 

"Tut, tut, Jefferson. You should try the chamomile as well, would soothe that temper. Now, my payment?"

 

Jefferson slammed the chest into the doctor's outstretched hand and then crowded him against the equipment, even with Hope pulling him away. "This was not worth that heart. You owe me now, Frankenstein. Remember that!"

 

The doctor chuckled quietly as Jefferson finally allowed Hope to drag him back. "Goodnight to you both! Sleep tight!"

 

* * *

Hope had never seen Jefferson so livid.

 

"Two-timing charlatan! I'd have known. I should have known! The way he so easily duped Regina-- you should have let me throttle him!"

 

"And then have that on your conscious? No, Jefferson. I shouldn't have," Hope said weakly as he paced circles around her in the hat's door room. "And really, what did you expect from the man whom you enlisted to help break the Queen's heart? A philanthropist?"

 

"No," he snapped back, "but a deal's a deal!"

 

"He's not Rumpelstiltskin, my love. Strangely, not everyone holds to so ironclad a policy of oaths as the Dark One."

 

"Well, they should!" He bellowed and then promptly deflated. "I'm sorry, Hope. I should not be yelling at you."

 

"No, it's fine. It's fine. Vent away. I understand."

 

"No. It's not." He covered the distance between them in two long strides and hugged her close. "It's not fine. I'm worried about you. And I still want clobber Frankenstein, but I'm more worried about what he said. You've lost whole days?"

 

Hope swallowed hard. It had taken her some time to realize that that was what was happening, not that she felt like she was missing parts of Grace's life because it was moving too quickly. But it wasn't. She was literally missing them from her memory. That had come as a shock and was not something that she had wanted to admit, much less discuss. But now, it seemed, she had to.

 

"Yes. You talk about things that I can't remember happening, doing things with me that I can't remember doing. It's not often, but it does happen. Remember… remember when I was fretting over missing Grace's first everything?" She waited until he nodded. "That was because I couldn't remember being there for several of them. I still can't. It breaks my heart that I can't recall the first time she called me 'mama' instead of the formerly ubiquitous 'papa.' It just happened one day and I knew it wasn't new but I didn't have the moment that it changed anymore."

 

Jefferson wilted around her. His voice was heavy when he responded. "How much, Hope?"

 

"In total? A month? Maybe more."

 

His breath slipped from him in a rush, like he'd been hit in the stomach. "A month? Oh, my dear Hope."

 

"Sometimes, a few things'll come flittering back. The other week I had a fleeting moment of a day I'd thought missing. Perchance… when I stop using the dreamberry they will all slowly return."

 

His fingers were a little hard on her arm as he replied, "no more. Ever. Is that agreed upon?"

 

"Yes, Jefferson, yes." She brushed away his hands and stood away feeling a little too much like a scolded girl. "I think that's a fairly clear decision from the doctor's assessment."

 

"Good."

  
  
"Yes, good. Alright, fine. I just have to find some other way to sleep." Her harrumph felt ridiculous even as she let it loose. She had no reason to be exasperated with him, she was the one who'd been lying and keeping secrets for months and months and months.

 

"So…" she lightened her tone, trying to ease the mood. "What now?"

 

Jefferson was pinching the bridge of his nose, ran a hand over his brow. "I don't know. The house is probably being watched right now. The Queen will snap us up as soon as we step back anywhere in her domain. But Wonderland at night… I don't think we can handle that. I don't know."

 

"Ah, I don't know about all that. I'm sure the two of us can navigate Wonderland. I was… fibbing slightly when I implied how dire it was at night."

 

Jefferson looked up at her with a disbelieving grin. "You… tricked me into staying in your home?"

 

"In a manner of speaking. I had considered seducing you -- and thank the sun and stars I didn't try, that would have been a horrible muck up -- but then decided that was too bold and I should focus on piggy-backing you out of the land instead."

 

He shook his head. "You are incredible. Little, opportunistic fibber. Wonderland it is."


	5. Third Time's the Charm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A third trip to Wonderland for Jefferson, and one as unpredictable as usual.

Hope felt a rush of homesickness as she edged up before the Looking Glass. She loved Jefferson and Grace and her life with them in the Enchanted Forest, but she hadn't _hated_ Wonderland. It had just been too dangerous for her to go on living there. Now with the Queen gone, it was like her exile had ended. She could go home, if only for a short visit. Mind you, she did still have some reservations, the Cheshire Cat for one, but it was mostly excitement that bubbled up from within her as she waited for Jefferson to muster up his patience.

 

He stepped next to her finally, flexing his hands. "Okay, let's get this over with. We find somewhere to sleep, somewhere safe from the locals, we get up at the crack of dawn… or whatever happens in this madhouse of a land, and then we get precisely two accounts and promptly leave. Yes?"

 

He grimaced at the glowing smile on her face. "Why are you so excited?"

 

"Home," she sighed, linking her arm through his and stepping through the Looking Glass. Her smile quickly faltered, however. It _was_ different there, Jefferson had been correct. The air smelled stale, the wind hushed. Something strange had happened. Even the stars in the sky seemed less lively.

 

Jefferson shook his whole body beside her and then tugged on her arm. "Come on. Let's find shelter."

 

But Hope didn't budge. This was all wrong. The stars should be winking, the moon grinning. Instead, there were just clouds, heavy and low above them.

 

"It's different," she whined. "What's happened?"

 

"Probably this new queen. Come on. I don't like just standing out in the open."

 

"Oh, I'll find out what's what with this new Queen," Hope huffed, setting out at a breakneck pace towards the Castle of Hearts.

 

Jefferson snapped out her name but ended up following after her. They were very near the castle at that point, Hope could see the long stretching gardens around it and-- She stopped short. Jefferson nearly bowled her over.

  
"What?"

 

"What in the world is that _monstrosity_?" She whispered, pointing to the labyrinthine bush maze that stretched out for nearly a mile around the castle. "That is not to be there!"

 

Jefferson stepped back, leaning to look up at the sky -- probably in exasperation --and catch his breath. "I don't know, Hope, though I suspect we shouldn't go anywhere near it."

 

"It's hideous and far, far too much," Hope announced to no one in particular, placing her hands on her hips. Then she caught sight of a familiar silhouette rushing past on the Southerly Way. "Bill!"

 

Jefferson clapped a hand over her mouth, but Hope shoved him away.

 

"Bill!" She shouted again and took off across the green.

 

"What are you doing?" Jefferson sounded like he was on the verge of a breakdown, or a panic attack. "Hope!"

 

"What? That's Bill. He's a handyman. I'm sure he can help us, and identify that horrid thing the new queen's done to the gardens. BILL!"

 

Finally, the lizard stopped and turned towards Hope's voice. "Mizz 'Ope, that you?"

 

"Yes, it is, Bill. What in the name of sanity are you doing coming from the palace?"

 

"I's the 'andyman there now, Mizz. The Queen, she finds Bill a right laugh."

 

"Well, that's lovely for you, Bill. And can you explain that?" She pointed back to the bushes.

 

"Oh, that's the rosebush maze. 'Er Majesty 'ad it plan'ed when she came to crown. It keep out intruders." He leaned in and spoke in a near whisper. "Thems roses eat people."

 

Hope shuddered. It was worse than she thought. "How horrible."

 

"Aye, it is but not if you don't touch 'em. Otherwise thems fine and fair. Wah you doin' 'ere, Mizz 'Ope? We all thought you'd left."

 

"Well, I had, Bill. I'm just back for a visit. Here, won't you do me a favor and answer my friend, Jefferson's questions. I'm going to have a look around."

 

Hope padded lightly down the hill to the new rosebush maze while Jefferson began talking quietly with Bill. She had precisely one thing in mind. What she needed was all there at the edge of the bushes, nice dry kindling, a few slates of rock, and sticks. In no time she had a small fire blazing at the foot of the nearest bush. It went up in flames immediately.

 

"HOPE!" Jefferson was barreling down towards her. "What are you doing?!"

 

"Well, I'm fixing it. Clearly," she answered calmly, waving back to the smoldering bushes. "It was so ugly, it'll look better burnt down."

 

Jefferson's face was indescribable. He looked as though she'd just kicked their baby or something. "Are you mad?! I wanted to leave here with our heads! Didn't you!?!"

 

Hope shrugged, "they'll never catch me."

 

Just then a cry went up to their left. Bill was already long gone, having scrambled off to where he'd been heading. Hope had a knee-jerk reaction and bolted across the field with Jefferson's hand in hers.

 

"Come on!" She cackled in delight. "I'll show you how I used to do it!"

 

"DO WHAT?"

 

"Escape the guards, silly!"

 

"You did this often?" He panted, bursting through, instead of hopping over, a hedgerow and into the Queen's woods along with her.

 

"Oh, yes, every day. That's why I was so tired of it."

 

She pulled him over her old tracks, down the hidden trails and through holes in trees. Soon the clumping, crashing, bellowing sounds of their pursuers died out. Hope kept running for good measure, enjoying the wind in her hair, the soft sponge of the ground under her feet and the way her body remembered these woods. Skirting a snapping nettle patch and splashing across the Broken Brook, Hope finally slowed to a stop. Jefferson had kept up, long legs that he had, but he wasn't nearly as nimble as her, and he didn't know the terrain. He was scratched up and gasping for air.

 

"You… did that… every… day…?"

 

Hope dropped her skirts back around her ankles again and then skipped over to him and checked his scrapes. "Oh, yes. Quite fun, wasn't it? The guards have gotten even slower and stupider these days."

 

"In skirts? You did that every day in skirts?"

 

"Mm-hmm."

 

He fell into a bout of exhausted laughter, slipping along the bank of the brook until he was sitting knee deep in the water. "That was insane, Hope. You were insane to do that every day. What was that? Several miles?"

 

"Three. About."

 

"And what for?"

 

"The Queen always had the best apples, of course."

 

Jefferson laughed again and then just laid down. "You do have a touch of vindictive in there, don't you? Risking your life to cause a nuisance each and every day. Okay… why does this place seem familiar?"

 

"Because you've been here before." Hope held out her hand to him and then pointed to the path just through the clearing. "This is the Tulgey Wood where my house was. I wonder if it's still here." She looked down at him as he considered taking her hand. "Do you want to check and see?"

 

Jefferson didn't require anymore coaxing than that, and soon they were hurrying down the path that led directly to her door. The run had felt great, setting fire to that monstrosity against gardening even better. The air seemed cleaner in this part of the wood and Hope felt like she was fueled with her old spirit, like a spark had hit her from that fire she started and she'd set been ablaze.

 

"What's gotten into you?" Jefferson asked as she skipped around him, swinging his hands like she used to.

 

"I feel better. It's so nice to be out of the house, to be here." She waved her hands frantically at the wounded pout that pulled his face long. "No, no, no! I love our home. Of course, I do, but this is a nice change of pace, a reminder of where I come from. I miss it sometimes, too, you know. OH! Look! It's just the same!"

 

They paused at the fence's gate, Hope wondering at her old home. It literally looked as though she'd never left it. Jefferson headed towards it before Hope did, eager to be inside somewhere. He still jumped at the nighttime creatures, acted skittish about the Horned Owls. He stood around, peering in amazement at the house as Hope dug up the spare key from a flowerpot. Inside it was just the same as well. Jefferson was a little astounded.

 

"My word," he whispered, running his hand over the table. "There's not even any dust. How does that happen--" He stopped wondering to look down at Hope's hands on his waistcoat. "What are you doing now?"

 

"We're alone, Jefferson. Completely alone! My blood's racing, I can feel everything from my toes to my scalp. We're in my old home, where I'd considered doing this before. I think it's only right you lay me over that table and help me find a way go to sleep somehow."

 

"Something in air here, isn't it?" He said quietly as Hope continued to removed his clothes, roughly. He allowed her to strip him down to nothing without moving an inch.

 

Hope liked it, him just watching her undressing him. It made her feel a little powerful. She also enjoyed how he looked in the weird Wonderland half-light of nighttime. He was still a little sweaty from the run, his skin radiating heat where she touched him and she touched him practically everywhere. His land's winter had served him well, forcing him to cut more wood every morning. Hope appreciated all the results of that extra work, warmth and the extra solidness of his chest, back and arms under her hands. Jefferson hadn't ever been particularly slight, except for that period of near starvation in Grace's early months, but he also wasn't bulky. This was the thickest she'd seen him, it suited.

 

"Now what are you doing?" He asked for the dozenth time that day it seemed, this time amused.

 

"Admiring you," Hope responded, standing at arm's length, looking him over. "I feel like I don't just look at you enough anymore."

 

Jefferson shifted his weight to his other leg, clenching and unclenching his hands. She'd managed to make him feel self-conscious. "Well, as lovely as that is… could we… move to the next part. It's, you know, a bit chilly in just my skin."

 

"No." Hope said smartly, laying a hand on his stomach, feeling him breathe, his heart beat. "And you don't feel chilled. Are you being bashful?"

 

"No…  but I'm only going to be not cold for a little while longer."

 

"I somehow feel as though that's untrue," Hope grinned, stepping up to him, standing on her tiptoes to lick along his collar bone.

 

Jefferson ran his hands through her hair and over the bare skin of her shoulders as she tasted the rest of him. Wide swath of his chest, plane of his stomach, over the dip of his navel. He stopped her, though, at her favorite part, the cut of shadow just inside his hips.

 

"What are you doing?"

 

"If you keep saying that, it's not going to mean anything anymore." She responded with a grin and nipped at the inside of his leg.

 

"Stand up and let me take your clothes off, please." It was almost his papa voice. He sounded annoyed, but he looked otherwise.

 

"Mmmm, no. I think I'll stay down here." Hope lifted her skirts to neatly settle on her knees.

 

His face twisted slightly. "You're not." He didn't sound so confident that she wasn't, he almost sounded hopeful in fact.

 

"I heard something from a friend of mine." The older Ms. Porter seemed a closeted little woman but she'd done some things in her time. Her response to Hope's shock was 'how do you think I ended up with three boys?' "And I'd like to try it for myself."

 

Jefferson didn't have a response to that. He simply looked down at her with a mixture of surprise and anticipation. He did, however, respond when Hope got around to trying it. Geraldine had given her very specific instructions that had made her giggle and blush at the time, but Hope saw as she started following them that they were exactly correct.

 

"Oh…" he shivered as her mouth found him, really knotted his fingers in her hair.

 

Hope started playfully, her tongue and lips just darting here and there, testing things out. Geraldine had been very helpful in indicating what to touch and when and where. With one hand on his hip, to keep him from overwhelming her as he urged to be taken farther inside, Hope wrapped her other hand around him and finally opened her mouth to him. The near-growl she earned made her stomach clench, in the warm, delicious way.

 

She could control things this way, which was fairly new and completely exciting. She could make him moan with just a flick of her tongue, a tiny pull of her lips, the stroke of her fingertips. Hope wanted to reach down and touch herself, but she had to keep that hand on his hip, even smack him once he was so insistent, which didn't elicit the effect she'd expected. He seemed to rather enjoy it. He was putty under her fingertips, and mouth. However, he snatched that all away from her when she pulled out what Ms. Porter had deemed the final move.

 

Jefferson gasped and jerked away from her with a little pop of her lips when she moved her hand from his base to his jewels. He'd leaned into her with a deep groan for a split second and then darted like she'd shocked him.

 

"What are you doing?"

 

"Using my mouth," Hope answered, wiping at her lips. "I thought that was obvious. And… enjoyable."

 

"Do you wish that to be all we do?"

 

Hope grinned. "No, of course not. I just wanted to feel you break under my fingers."

 

Jefferson's whole body quavered, but he shook his head. "Not now. Another time. Your turn. Up you get."

 

He pressed hard and hot against her stomach as he kissed her. If she'd done anything, it seemed she'd managed to make him more needful and less careful. His teeth left little marks on her neck and shoulders. He accidently snapped the bowing of her corset, tore her shorts down the seam.

 

"That's the second pair you've ruined."

 

He only grinned and returned to stripping her down and leaving nips on her sensitive skin. When he had her completely undressed he lifted her onto the table and pinned her down to return the lip service he'd received. He continued leaving those marks, indentations from his teeth, red puckers from his lips as he moved down her body. Then he was just cruel and teasing, licking her everywhere but where she wanted.

 

"What else did you hear from your friend?" He asked, pulling her hips towards him again, standing up and putting her on the floor.

 

"Oh, you know… _things_ ," she responded coyly as her frustrated panting allowed.

 

Jefferson lifted a brow and then, taking her hips, flipped her around, grabbed his coat of the ground and, folding it quickly, wedged it between her pelvis and where he was leaning her up against the table.

 

"Let's hope the table's sturdy enough," he muttered and then kicked her legs farther apart, holding her hips in place.

 

Wedged against the table by his hands, Hope had to lean over on her elbows, but she didn't mind. The pressure he was applying had her rubbing exactly where she needed to against his coat. Then he pushed inside of her and she full out moaned. She missed seeing his face, feeling his body, but the pressure was so intense, the fullness of her so complete she wasn't really thinking about anything else besides keeping her hips in rhythm. She came crashing down under him in none too many thrusts, crying aloud and jerking her body so hard she shoved the table forward and sent a vase shattering to the floor. Jefferson groaned behind her and thrust inside her once more with a shudder.

 

"That was fast," Hope commented several gasps later, her face flat against the table, Jefferson patting her bottom as he staggered away from her.

 

"We're lucky it didn't happen when you decided to experiment with your mouth. I'm surprised I lasted that long."

 

Hope pushed herself up onto her hands and flexed her back. "Mmmm. I feel scrumptious. I say we do that again. Face to face this time. I want your mouth." She hopped up to sit on the table, pulled him to her with her legs and hands.

 

"You're joking, aren't you? I'm going to need a minute."

 

"Yes, of course," she said into his neck, working up to his jaw and ear. "I'll just give you that minute."

 

He exhaled a short laugh and wrapped his arms around her, providing, as requested, his mouth to her shoulders and throat. Hands not idle, Hope dragged her nails down his back lightly, cupped his bum and pulled him closer to her. Sure enough, as she tilted her head away to ghost her lips over his, he was ready again.

 

"You're manipulative. You know that," he said into her teeth, already pressing himself against her, seeking to slip inside again.

 

"Ah, that's a matter of perspective. I'd say I'm persuasive." She kissed him hard and deep and then leaned back onto her hands so that he could watch her watch him enter her. Another tip from a friend. And she was glad she did. The look on his face alone was worth it, much less how it felt to watch herself.

 

The table was not sturdy enough. As their rocking together became more insistent, as Jefferson sought better purchase against the floor and pushed Hope harder into the table it swayed and then jolted backwards, toppling over a chair and sending some pots left on the ground scattering and toppling over. That didn't stop them though. What did stop them was the door being kicked open.

 

Jefferson jerked to a stop inside of her, eyes wider than she'd seen them in a while. Comically wide, but appropriately so. They were caught naked in coitus on a dinner table in an abandoned house. Shock having released him, he gathered her to him in order to keep her covered from whoever was standing in the door.

 

Looking over his shoulder, Hope let out a laugh. She recognized the figure in the doorway.

 

"Haigha, well, hello!"

 

The hare, hopped backwards at the sound of his name, held his lantern higher. Jefferson, too, acted surprised, leaning back to squint at Hope. Then he turned around and the hare hopped back again.

 

"Hatter? Missus?"

 

"How big you've gotten, Haigha! Look at those ears!" She beamed over at him, completely disregarding the compromising situation she found herself in, legs wide and wrapped around Jefferson's hips. She tapped Jefferson on the shoulder excitedly and informed him, as if they were having a casual tea somewhere and happened upon an acquaintance. "Haigha was one of my first little ones I taught once I moved out here. He lives in the woods nearby."

 

Surprise and re-acquaintances having passed, the hare's naturally manic energy returned. He hopped a few feet inside the house and waved wildly at them. "What are the two of you doing on the kitchen table?!"

 

"Well," Hope picked up, old schoolmistress tone back in place, "sometimes when a woman and a man--"

 

"He's your mate!" The hare interrupted. "I knew he was a male. You can tell by the ears, you know."

 

Hope nodded along with all patience while Jefferson stared in near-horror at her. "It is rude to interrupt, Haigha, but, yes, you could say Jefferson is my mate. Now, as you've found out that nothing untoward--"

 

Jefferson snorted, and she kicked his bottom lightly.

 

"Nothing untoward is happening in my house, you can hop along. We'll be leaving in the morning, you see, so you can go back to guarding my home then, which I very much appreciate. And all the care you've put into maintaining it, I assume that was all you. That was very thoughtful, Haigha."

 

The little hare bowed, completely unabashed, and hopped backwards. "Anything for you, Missus! It'll be here the next time you visit!"

 

Hope broke down into giggles the moment the door tapped shut. "Your face, Jefferson! Oh my!"

 

He released her, settling her back on the table to laugh at him. "My face? You mean the look of abject mortification that was absolutely reasonable seeing as how we were walked in on by a crazy hare, whom by the way I've met, so there's no protection of anonymity."

 

"Yes, that face! Oh, don't worry about Haigha. He's very reasonable about these things. He's a hare."

 

"A march hare!"

 

"Indeed. He understands!" Hope laughed again, patting him on the chest. "Oh, your face!"

 

* * *

 

Despite all the excitement, Jefferson was the one left awake that night. Hope took everything in stride and fell asleep soundly a few moments after hitting the pillow. She was completely unfazed by things here, was offended when he was hesitant to pick up where they left off when that mad, rutting hare barged in. But, she was persuasive and, having gotten what she wanted, left him to feel extremely disconcerted atop her, and still uncomfortable -- to a certain degree -- with what had happened.

 

He got to sleep in time, though. That was never a problem he'd seriously encountered. And the next morning came around, absurdly as it did in Wonderland, to greet Hope in an uncommonly chipper mood.

 

Jefferson laughed at it at first, it was charming, her enthusiasm. "No, not here, not now." He gently pushed her hand away.

 

She pouted.

 

"We have things we have to do, another account to gather and then to get out of this place as quickly as possible." He batted her aside again.

 

"Come now, we never -- and I mean never get to wake up and do this."

 

"Mmm. I know." He looped his hand around both her wrists and pushed them away and out of reach. "And we don't have the luxury here either. Grace is still waiting for us to get home."

 

"I know, but it would only take--"

 

"No. It hurts me deeply to tell you 'no' to this, but no. No time." He lifted her hands again away from him and then kissed her on the cheek before sitting up.

 

"Fine. But I still expect to collect some things in the woods, a few healing herbs, some dreamberries."

 

Jefferson stopped midway in pulling up a trouser leg. "Really?"

 

"Not for that, no. I want them for traveling safely. In case something comes up. You can carry them, you can keep them under lock and key, be in charge of them at all times. I won't be taking any. Promise."

 

He narrowed his eyes at Hope but she grinned sweetly and genuinely up at him.

 

"Promise?"

 

"Oh, absolutely. That was the best night's sleep I've had in years. I want that every night, and the idea of losing my memories is scary enough. No more sleeping draughts for me!"

 

"Fine."

 

"And you know? We can simply pop by the neighbors while we're out foraging to ask after the Queen gossip. One stone, two birds."

 

Jefferson learned very little of value from the inhabitants of Wonderland. Most of their responses to the Queen of Hearts were formal salutes. Out of the confusion that a mention of her name caused, that is that usually it signaled her approach and required obeisance, they would be stricken into absurd poses of deference, and then terror. Bill had been a little more helpful, informing him that there were rumors that she murdered the former queen, but that was idle gossip. They also were uniformly unaware of her name. The former queen had been exclusively addressed as the Queen, but her name had been known, Kassandra. This one was nameless and apparently faceless. She permanently wore a mask, even beyond the custom of the Court. That was it. That was all he knew.

 

Hope approached him at about when he figured would be mid-morning in the Enchanted Forest and pulled him away, saving him from a Dormouse's very slow, very hypnotic attempt to tell him precisely what he already knew, that she's the queen, while intermittedly singing him a song.

 

"I have everything I need." She cinched up his satchel and handed it back to him. "If you'd like, we can leave."

 

Jefferson jumped on that request only too eagerly. They were hustling back to the Looking Glass immediately. Jefferson was worried about what Regina had done while they were away, worried what she would do when they returned. But they couldn't put it off. Grace needed them, he wanted to be back, they needed the money from Rumpelstiltskin, and he wanted to get Hope home and well. Completely well.

 

He decided as they stepped back into the hat room that he'd just tell the imp what he did and wait for a reaction. He might be pleased and smooth things over for Jefferson of his own goodwill. If not, Jefferson could work it into a deal, this one or another. Rumpelstiltskin wasn't just going to give a powerful pawn like Jefferson's hat over to Regina, that was for sure.

 

"Plan?" Hope seemed to be tuned into him, sensed his cogs turning.

  
"Straight to the Dark One, we'll seek sanctuary. Regina can't reach us there. Then I can work something out with him." Jefferson held his elbow out to her. "Ready?"

 

The room they stepped into was certainly not the sort they'd been expecting. First of all, it was lit, there was natural light which was itself odd. What was more jarring, though, was the sheer destruction that littered the floor. Glass, wood, ceramic shards covered the entire room. It looked like a tornado had been through there and only targeted shatter-able things, precious fragile items. Jefferson stepped as lightly as he could but things cracked under his feet no matter what he did.

 

"What in blue blazes happened in here?"

 

Hope tugged at his arm, pointed to a lone, chipped tea cup. "I think someone had a fight. This was smash-for-rage-destruction, no doubt."

 

The doors swung open and both turned, a little on edge, to Rumpelstiltskin. He looked at them, then at the destruction and sneered. "Bad day. What do you have for me?"

 

"Well," Jefferson ticked the pieces of gossip he'd gathered off his fingers as Hope edged around the room inspecting the smashed pieces. By the time he'd finished the imp was nigh on snarling.

 

"As I expected," he snapped. "Very well, have your gold." He waved his hand and a velvet pouch about the size of Hope's head appeared.

 

"Oh, and something else…"

 

He turned back to Jefferson slowly. "Yeeeeessss?"

 

"Well… Regina is out for my head."

 

The imp burst into jubilant cackles. "Oh she is, is she? What for, hatter?"

 

"I stole a heart from her mother's vault. She had to know it was me, I used my hat."

 

"And why, oh, why did you go and do a thing like that?"

 

"Payment, to Frankenstein for his… doctorly help."

 

Rumpelstiltskin's eye wandered over to Hope. "Looking for a non-magical solution to a somewhat magical problem are we? Need I remind you that that never works?"

 

Jefferson crossed his arms. "My hat is the extent of magic that I'm comfortable with."

 

"And whatever little spells I stir up to save your hide, of course. Never you fear, hatter! I'll take care of your Regina problem. I owe her."

 

Jefferson followed his gaze to the lone chipped teacup and then decided it was time they left.

 

"Hope? Come on, we're done here."

 

They crept back to the portal cautiously as the imp returned to the cup, turned it over fondly in his hand. Yes, it was high time they left. This was an unstable mindset they'd found the Dark One in, not a safe place to be.


	6. The Family Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quiet, idyllic domestic life only lasts so long when one trades in a high-demand, low-supply commodity.

Whatever Rumpelstiltskin had done to keep Regina from bringing down her wrath on Jefferson's head, it had worked. The winter thawed to spring and spring heated to the sultry peak of summer by the time they heard of the Queen again. And even then it was just rumors of her touring the land. She never ventured to Jefferson's village or home and, if she was secretly brewing some grand revenge against him, he heard not a whisper of it. The seasons turned again and it was a few months before Grace's fourth birthday before they were favored with a call from Rumpelstiltskin even.

 

Jefferson had been hesitant to ask another favor off the imp, especially after it became clear that he was not the most stable of magical beings even beyond his reputation for sadistic mirth. When the money pouch was bare and belts were pinching, he and Hope took Grace and delved into the forest. He'd gotten better at trapping and Hope was surprisingly good with a net, so even beyond the roots and fruits that they foraged they could come home every day with a full meal. A rabbit here, a pheasant there. They were doing fine. The vegetable and fruit garden that Hope had planted, after digging up his rather useless and showy summer garden, helped as well. Beyond that, he made hats and clothing to sell at market or by commission which did a fair turn over and Hope had started a surprisingly lucrative apothecary business. They frequently had villagers knocking at their door asking after Hope's cough syrup or a sleeping draught -- exclusively not of dreamberry -- in exchange for useful things like raw cloth or an occasional toy for Grace.

 

They weren't living the easy life they'd started out with, but they were happy. Grace was healthy and growing like a weed, as her mother said almost every morning, definitely every time she and Jefferson had to fashion her new clothing to fit her. She was also a very active, talkative child and it took all of Hope and Jefferson's energy and time outside of work to keep up with her. The two of them would focus on their crafts indoors in shifts so that one of them at all times was with Grace, playing or teaching especially as she was at that age when each phrase out of her mouth was a question and she wanted to know all about everything. Hope had even started given her morning lessons while Jefferson was out chopping wood or doing the occasional errand. Although she admitted it was wishful thinking, she'd also begun reading little stories with Grace. Jefferson liked to pick these up later and act out the voices with Grace, eliciting a few giggles if not a full on laugh attack. But Grace impressed them, sometimes insisting on Papa being serious and sounding out the words with her. She'd definitely picked up Hope's lecturing tone. And for forest time, they went all together.

 

That morning Grace had gotten dressed, insisting that she do it herself, pulling on her dress, and batting Jefferson's hands away from her buttons, which she fastened almost right, and tromped down the stairs. She was feeling rather rambunctious it seemed.

 

"Well!" Hope had reacted with poorly hidden amusement when the two of them appeared in the kitchen. "Did someone get dressed all by herself this morning?"

 

"I do it. Not Papa," Grace replied smartly and smoothed her skirt down in perfect imitation of her mother.

 

Jefferson grinned wearily. "That she did. I was not even allowed to help with the buttons."

 

"I see that." Hope gave Grace a very proud smile and then turned back to the hearth before she started laughing.

 

Jefferson bent down next to Grace. "May I at least help you into your chair, my big Grace?"

 

She nodded, "yes, pease, Papa." She'd not quite gotten down the 'L' sound perfectly yet. He lifted her up and left her with her chalk and cloth to draw while he and Hope finished getting breakfast ready. Usually the chalk ended up on the table, but that wasn't a problem, it wiped right off.

 

"You were up early this morning," he muttered quietly in Hope's ear as he wrapped an arm around her waist and reached with the other to grab Grace's cup.

 

"Mmm, I needed more dew cups for the infusion I'm mixing for Mr. Ives. I had to be. Thank you for dressing her so diligently this morning." Hope stopped stirring their porridge to kiss him on the cheek and laugh under her breath. "Did she fight you?"

 

"No. Not at all, she just told me, firmly, in very much your tone that she would do it. She even pushed me away when I tried to help with the buttons. I think she's been watching you when we didn't realize." He looked down pointedly at how Hope was pushing his hand away from the pot.

 

Hope rolled her eyes and then moved her hand. "Yes, please do help, my love," she announced a little louder and then reached up to push the hair out of his face. "I think it's about time for a haircut, maybe for everyone. Will you sharpen the scissors for me after breakfast? I'll trim you and Grace up before I take my stock into town."

 

"I will, though I thought maybe we'd all go today. The millers had offered to have a little play time." He added under his breath, "she needs to make some friends. She's acting like an adult already."

 

Hope nodded, "I think that sounds lovely, don't you, darling? A little play time with Ellie and Petey? Then, we can go for a romp in the forest."

 

Grace clapped her hands and smiled brightly. "Yes, yes! I wanna be a bird!" She held her arms out to either side and flapped them eagerly.

 

"Good," Hope said, patting Jefferson's cheek and taking back her spoon. "Then, afterwards, haircuts."

 

Jefferson stole a furtive kiss and then went to sit with his daughter at the table. "And what is this, my dear Grace?"

 

"A bird, silly."

 

Hope didn't catch herself that time, snorting as she poured the porridge.

 

"What funny, Mama?"

 

"Nothing, darling girl, Mama just sneezed."

 

Jefferson recovered a bit more smoothly, scooting his chair around to face the drawing head on. He pulled the cloth closer and nodded expressively. "Ah, yes, it is a bird, isn't it? Silly me, indeed. There's the beak, yes, and its wings."

 

"Tail." Grace informed him, pointing along with him to the parts of the drawing.

 

"Uh-huh. A very lovely tail. Well done, Grace." He kissed the top of her head and then started collecting her drawing and chalk up. "Time to eat now. Ready?"

 

She nodded and then sat back waiting for her bowl. Hope set down in front of her and handed her a spoon.

 

"With the spoon, Grace," she reminded her as Grace reached with her fingers.

 

"Why?"

 

"Because that's the proper way, with a spoon. Right, Papa?"

 

Jefferson nodded and demonstrated spoon use. "It's much less messy," he said, reaching over and wiping Grace's fingers clean. "Less sticky, too."

 

Grace patiently worked to hold her spoon, trying it a few different ways while looking at Jefferson and Hope. Eventually she clasped it in her little fist and clumsily managed a bit of porridge to her mouth.

 

"There. See? Much better," Hope smiled and wiped up the dribblings. "Very good. A big girl who dresses herself must also use a big girl spoon."

 

Grace smiled back and tried again, this time with a bit more success. While she was focusing very seriously on the decorum of porridge eating, Jefferson and Hope had an opportunity to talk in their coded language of sorts.

 

"And while our darling girl plays with little Ellie and Pete, I thought that you and I could go shopping for vegetables."

 

Grace wrinkled her nose, "no vegables."

 

Hope blinked at Jefferson waiting for a response. She'd started using activities to do with things like vegetables, which Grace didn't like, to mean their alone time. That way Grace didn't whine about being left out. Vegetable shopping was the best one. They grew their own, but Grace didn't need to know that yet. Besides, there was a little copse of trees behind the market they could slip to from beside the fresh food stall.

 

"Especially since Geraldine is still up with the flu," Hope added. It had been three weeks now that poor Ms. Porter had been sick. Three weeks of uninterrupted time with Grace tugging at their hands every single second of the day.

 

Jefferson nodded. "Ah, yes. Rutabagas…"

 

He'd felt bad about sneaking off every once in a while when they took Grace into the village, like they were being selfish. Hope, however, had reminded him that they were still people, young people at that, who were allowed to do things for themselves.

 

"You know every other couple of our age are frolicking together like rabbits," she'd said off-handedly in the copse the first time. "We're awfully young to be acting so stodgy."

 

"What's rubagas, Papa?"

 

He cleared his throat and put on his most serious face. "Vegetables, dear Grace."

 

"Eww."

 

Jefferson leaned closer to Hope. "You know," he muttered quietly, "one day she'll need to actually like vegetables, or even find she likes them herself. We can't keep tricking her into eating them forever."

 

"Oh, I know. We'll figure out something else, then." She patted his hand lightly and then stood to clear the table. "Alright, who's ready to go into market? Hmm?"

 

Grace had managed to only end up wearing some of her porridge. Nonetheless, Hope decided to take her up and get her changed while Jefferson put together their packs for the trip. A few minutes later, mother and daughter were scampering down the stairs, Hope only barely keeping Grace on her feet as the latter squealed with joy.

 

"Monster, Papa!" Grace trumpeted, running around the table and behind his legs as Hope followed.

 

"Oh, yes. The tickle monster! Grace wasn't getting dressed quickly enough, so the tickle monster came out," Hope explained and then caught her up around the middle. "Come here!"

 

Grace kicked and laughed as Hope nuzzled her and then settled her on the ground to fix her buttons. Jefferson noticed she let Hope do that without resistance.

 

"Tickle monster?" He asked, catching Grace's hand as she rocketed towards the door.

 

Hope took up the other and winked at him. "Oh yes, uncooperative little girls are the tickle monster's favorite treat."

 

"Mmm. Someone will have to remember that for next time."

 

"Indeed. Did you by chance remember-- ah, isn't Papa good." Hope smiled at the vials Jefferson had slipped in his satchel.

 

"Yes!" Grace agreed for him, hopping at their feet, just dying to get outside. "Less go!"

 

" _Let's_ go," Jefferson corrected gently and then opened the front door.

 

"Let's go! Go! Go! Go!" Grace was overly fond of 'go', 'no', and 'fly' and made sure to make frequent use of them when she found they were appropriate.

 

The day was really mild and therefore the walk to market was a pleasant one. Grace insisted on being swung between her two parents for the majority of it which was no hardship. She still weighed less than a sack of flour it seemed. She also insisted on keeping a running conversation between herself and her parents, mostly dictated by the questions she had at the moment.

 

"Mama? Why don't I wear these like Papa?" She kicked mid-air at Jefferson's trouser legs for demonstration.

 

"Because Mama has only ever made you skirts and dresses, darling. Would you like to try shorts?"

 

"Do girls wear shorts?"

 

"They don't usually, but you can if you want."

 

She seemed to ponder that over and then, with regret written all over her face looked up at Jefferson. "If they don't, I don't."

 

Hope frowned. She looked at Jefferson like Grace had kicked her in the stomach. He stepped in to help.

 

"Gracie, if you want, you can wear whatever you want. Never you mind what other people think." 

 

"Maybe, Papa. Why does Mama have that there?" She pointed at Hope's neckerchief. "But you there," she pointed to Jefferson's necktie lower under his collar.

 

"Different styles for men and women, my love." Hope replied.

 

"But you don't always have it. Not at home. Why?"

 

Hope sighed. She'd been avoiding explaining the scar to Grace since when first she asked what it was. "For the same reason we wear shoes outside but not always inside, for protection."

 

"Protection for what?"

 

"The sunlight, dear." Hope pointed towards the slope ahead where several cows were grazing. "What are those, Grace?"

 

"Cows!"

 

"And what do cows say?" Jefferson chimed in.

 

"Moo!"

 

"And how many are there?"

 

Grace furrowed her brow in concentration and freed her hand from Hope's to point and count. "One. Two. Three. Four… Five?"

 

"Very good. There are five. And what color are they?"

 

"Brown!"

 

"Good."

 

The counting, naming, color game continued until they reached the market, mostly because Grace loved to show how much she knew but also because Hope was on edge about the scar. It had been coming up more and more as Grace talked with increasing fluency and paid closer attention. The market was a place of overstimulation for Grace. She bolted around, as far as Jefferson or Hope's arms would reach, and tried to touch everything, talk to everyone. She seemed to prefer the company of adults, but when they arrived at the millers' place she scampered off with their two younger children almost immediately. Soon, she was bossing them around in their joint venture to build a stick castle. The millers gave them a knowing smile when Hope asked if it would be alright to leave Grace there while they did some shopping.

 

"We'll be back soon."

 

And they were. Three weeks was a long time.

 

"Mama, you have a stick in your hair," Grace informed Hope as they were walking home.

 

Hope blushed red as a rose and pulled the twig discreetly from her braid. Jefferson had thought he'd caught everything, though clearly he hadn't.

 

"Were you making stick castles, too?"

 

"Mama was saving that one for you, Grace. For your castle." Jefferson took it from Hope and then handed it to Grace. Grace giggled and accepted it, placing it in her hair to match. Hope rolled her eyes.

 

"Not exactly what we should be encouraging, Jefferson," she whispered. He shrugged. It was cute.

 

"She doesn't know." He tucked a stray strand of hair behind Hope's ear. "Did you have fun with Ellie and Petey, Grace?"

 

"Yes. I was queen."

 

"Queen of the great Stick Castle. Impressive!"

 

"Did you give Ellie and Pete a chance to be in charge?" Hope asked and let go of Grace's hand so she could skip ahead some.

 

"No! They were bad."

 

"They were bad at being in charge?"

 

"Yes. I'm not."

 

Jefferson snorted but Hope put on her scolding tone. "Now, Grace dear, you can't be in charge all of the time. You must share with the other children or they won't want to play with you."

 

"You're in charge all the time and Papa still plays with you."

 

Hope let her mouth drop open and looked to Jefferson. He grinned and then sighed. "No, darling Grace, Mama is not always in charge. She shares with Papa."

 

"No, she doesn't."

 

Jefferson shrugged. "From the mouth of babes."

 

"Mama does share, Grace. Papa is just less talkative than her."

 

Grace wasn't paying any attention at this point. She'd found a frog and was hopping alongside it. She squealed in delight when another joined it and then both went bounding off in different directions. She chased one for a stretch and then, at Jefferson's insistence -- because Hope was all of a sudden very mute -- toddled back to them.

 

"Why are there two of Ellie and Petey?"

 

Jefferson and Hope paused on that one for a moment. "Two, darling?"

 

"Yes. Two of them and one of me."

 

"Oh. That's because you don't have any brothers or sisters. Ellie is Pete's sister and Pete is Ellie's brother."

 

"Why?"

 

"Because they have the same parents."

 

"Why?"

 

"Oh, because they both came from their mama's tummy."

 

"Why don't I have one?"

 

Hope smiled at Jefferson but gave him no help. She was still smarting from the bossy comment.

 

"Why don't you have a brother or sister? Because your mama and I haven't gotten you one."

 

"Why?"

 

"Because we're very happy with just you, dear Grace." He caught her up around the middle and spun her around as she bubbled over with peals of laughter. "We don't need anything else."

 

"More! More! Fly!" She demanded and jumped back towards his arms again and again until Jefferson swept her back up.

 

She giggled and giggled as he tossed her over his shoulder and marched on.

 

"Quite the squiggling, wiggling sack of flour we've gotten this time, Hope," he commented.

 

"That it is. And the loudest yet." Hope added on, causing Grace to promptly stop as if she were hiding.

 

She liked to play pretend. She was quite good at it. When Jefferson looked around to check he found she'd covered her mouth and shut her eyes. He fought back a laugh and then continued.

 

"What shall we make with this flour today? A cake?"

 

"Oh, I like the idea of a cake. I'll just have to crack in an egg…" Hope clicked her tongue and wriggled her fingers over Grace's back, making her squirm a little but then get still again. "And then I'll knead that together…" She poked Grace in the sides and it was all over.

 

"No, Mama! I'm not a sack of flour!" She kicked and wiggled until Jefferson scooped her off and began carrying her next to his side.

 

"Oh, too bad. It was going to be a tasty cake." Hope winked down at Grace looped in Jefferson's arm.

 

"Papa! I'm not flour!" She announced again and pulled at his sleeve.

 

"Oh! That you're not! So, I don't have to carry you." He set her down on the ground and tapped her nose. "Not too far," he added as they turned onto the forest path and Grace went skipping off to play.

 

She came with Hope and Jefferson into the forest so often that she was completely at ease there. Some days she would follow one of them, doing precisely what they were doing, other days she was more independent, running around and trying to climb things, making their work a bit more difficult, and some days she picked up every single thing she found and asked what it was. Today was one of the latter days.

 

"What's this?"

 

"A berry. A strawberry. You may put it in the basket."

 

"What's this?"

 

"A rock."

 

"What's this?"

 

"A leaf, dear Grace. You know that."

 

"What leaf?"

 

Jefferson put down the mushroom he'd been examining. "What _kind of_ leaf? Oh, that would be something you have to ask your Mama."

 

"What kind of leaf, Mama?" She went bounding off to Hope who was plucking berries.

 

"Oak, Grace."

 

"Oak. Oak. Oak." Grace tried that word out as she ran circles around them. "What's that?"

 

Jefferson looked up, but Grace wasn't holding anything. She was pointing.

 

"'What'? 'What' again? Such a rude question, dearie." Rumpelstiltskin was perched on a stump, grinning over at them.

 

Jefferson immediately stood and scooped Grace up. "That is an imp, Grace," he sighed.

 

He look offended but then stood and gave a flourishing bow. "Rumpelstiltskin is my name, Grace. Your mother and father know me."

 

"Why is your face like that?" Hope put her hand over Grace's mouth but too late.

 

"It's a condition," the imp replied casually. "Now, is this a necessary family outing or might we take this conversation elsewhere?"

 

He didn't give them time to answer, the lot of them suddenly appearing in their sitting room. Grace did not like that. She looked around at the change in their surroundings, scrunched up her face and then started crying in confusion or disappointment. Jefferson couldn't tell which. Hope scowled at Rumpelstiltskin and marched over to Jefferson, prying her hands free from his waistcoat and marching up the stairs with her.

 

"Touchy, touchy," Rumpelstiltskin observed, "I thought the girl would like a bit of magic."

 

"Not everyone likes magic like you do," Jefferson replied sullenly and rolled his neck. The day had been going so well. "What's the occasion?"

 

"Well, a job, of course!"

 

"What sort of job?"

 

"A lucrative one!" The imp grinned and then shook his head when Jefferson only crossed his arms and sucked on his teeth. "My, oh, my! A frosty reception in here," he giggled at a private joke. "I assumed that I would be welcomed gladly, heralded as the bearer of opportunities to take care of your growing family! S'pose not!"

 

They stared at each other for a minute before he continued.

 

"No? No interest? Not even a 'thank you' for saving you from Regina?"

 

Jefferson folded to that point. "Yes, alright, thank you. How did you manage that, by the by? Anything I should be concerned of, perchance? Any looming dates to fear?"

 

Rumpelstiltskin tittered darkly. "No. No new dates, just the one… three hundred and ninety-two days hence."

 

"Right… Grace's fifth birthday, the end of the cloaking spell… how did you take care of Regina?" Jefferson was not going to be distracted.

 

"Oh, a little of this, a little of that. Let's just say she doesn't you as anyone more than that eccentric traveler who once helped her in exchange for a royal passport."

 

"You cast a forgetting spell on her?" Jefferson was astounded. The imp cackled.

 

"It was easy, really. She does so delight in those extravagant outfits. One cursed hat was all it took." He giggled. "A hat! A cursed hat!"

 

"Yes, yes, how appropriate." Jefferson rolled his eyes, long ago cloyed by hat related humor. "So, she doesn't remember anything after the Frankenstein debacle?"

 

"Not a thing! Not about you, nor you lady dearest, nor your daughter. If she comes a-callin' it'll be because she thinks you might do her a personal favor."

 

"Let's hope she doesn't," Jefferson grumbled and then uncrossed his arm. "Alright, what's the job?"

 

"A retrieval." The imp snapped his fingers and a parchment drawing floated onto the table in front of Jefferson.

 

"A jar?"

 

"A vase. An urn. Call it what you like, but it's much, much more. It's… the North Wind's time-out spot for when he's misbehaving. It's kept in the Palace of the Hours, in--"

 

"In the Pole, I know. There going to be any trouble getting it?"

 

"No, no, no. So far's I know, the snowy scoundrel's been mild and thus is not stoppered. Getting it should be a snap. The Clauses never post guards."

 

"And why do you need it?"

 

"Pest control, unseasonable weather, it matches my decor. What do you care?"

 

"He cares because he doesn't want to be complicit in another witch quickening," Hope said, climbing down the last few stairs in surprising silence. Jefferson had no idea how long she'd been there. "Or anything of that ilk."

 

"Oh-ho-ho!" Rumpelstiltskin laughed merrily. "I can assure you, it will quicken no witch. It will simply sit in my vaults, gathering dust, _concealing_."

 

"And what are you offering?" Hope had officially taken over negotiations. It was a good thing Grace was upstairs in her bed for naptime, Hope would never have lived down the 'not sharing' accusations.

 

"Gold, as usual."

 

Hope looked to Jefferson.

 

"And our Grace?" He asked.

 

"Well, she isn't forbidden. I'm not that kind of employer!"

 

Hope scoffed, "there is no way we are bringing our four year old child through a portal to steal something!"

 

"Then leave her with the neighbors!"

  
  
"And if we don't make it back?"

 

"She's adorable, I'm sure someone will snatch her up."

 

"No. I want assurance that, if something happens to me and Hope, you'll make sure she's taken in by someone who'll take care of her, someone kind and well-off. Not you." Jefferson added quickly when the imp started grinning.

 

"Oh, I have just the people in mind, but not to worry. It's not in the cards! She'll always have someone looking out for her, fighting for her even."

 

Jefferson sighed at the cryptic response but shrugged to Hope. It sounded fine. "Just a quick grab?"

 

Hope rubbed her hands over her face. "The millers?"

 

"Them or ring 'round to see how Geraldine is feeling."

 

Her brown eyes found him, sparkling a little despite her apparent annoyance. "I'll go check on her."

 

"And I'll get the snow gear from the cellar."

 

"Snow gear?"

 

Rumpelstiltskin had been watching their exchange like a hawk, a maniacal, toad-faced hawk. He leapt back into the conversation with unbridled mirth. "Yes, dearie! The Pole is always cold! And hatter, whatever you do, don't break the thing." He spun on his heel and skittered towards the door. "Good luck!" He called and then vanished over the threshold.

 

"I find him eternally unsettling," Hope remarked as she put together a basket of goodies for Geraldine.

 

"Everyone does. I'd be worried if you didn't."

 

Geraldine turned out to be feeling better, or at least she claimed to be and Hope was satisfied enough with the evidence to agree. Soon they had packed Grace up for a sleep over with her 'Auntie Gera' and left her there prattling about her new friends and frogs and stick palaces. Hope left the porch with some hesitation.

 

"I hate leaving her without telling her where we're going," she said, scuffing her boot along the path. "She's getting old enough that she should know what her father does, or can do rather. And why on earth we would leave her."

 

"Maybe. Maybe not. I think I would have been better off not knowing. Thinking I was abandoned was the worst part, it would have been easier if I just thought them dead."

 

"I don't want her to think we abandoned her," Hope answered, her tone haunted. "I can't imagine her thinking we abandoned her."

 

Jefferson pulled her to him. "She won't. I'll make sure of that, we both will."

 

Hope and he walked along in silence for a few minutes. Eventually, the cloud passed and Hope ventured a change of topic. "So, where is this Pole?"

 

"Nice place, peaceful. The inhabitants are all seasonal, literally they only live there on their off-seasons. The whole world is full of people like me, portal-jumpers. They help control the seasons across the worlds, oversee festival magic. We're going to the Claus's house in particular."

 

"Claus? As in the Winter Solstice Sprite?"

 

"The very one. His magic's really powerful, he can cross-over all the boundaries. I've heard rumor he can even travel to lands without magic at all. But he's a gentle spirit. I don't think we'll have any trouble. He might even just give us the urn if we ask nicely. I just don't want to deal with those elves of his. Show boats."


	7. The Other Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another trip through the hat and a few surprises.

In the year and a half or so since her last trip to any world not Wonderland, Hope had become very used to life in the Enchanted Forest. Almost too comfortable, she told Jefferson. There was a degree of safety, or regularity that she benefited from there and she'd loved being around Grace and soaking her childhood in. Part of her missed her more adventurous side, the one that wanted to wake Jefferson up in the middle of the night and go tromping through the forest, just for the feel of the moss underfoot and wind in her hair, the sound of the night alive around them. It felt her current habits to be complacent, vulnerable. That one side was always tickling her, was embittered by the majority of her time spent indoors, bridled against it by convincing Jefferson to leave each other secret notes in chalk around the house while Grace still couldn't read, by dragging him off from the vegetable stand to romp in a copse of trees. That side wished the imp would come to rustle things up in their mundane little life. It had jumped into her throat when she heard about the new trip prospect and thrashed to take the offer and run, never look back. But it was the weaker side.

 

After her trip to the doctor's nightmarish castle in the colorless realm, Hope began to appreciate in all fullness what she had gotten handed to her by Jefferson. She had been on the verge of ruining it by reverting to things from her world, the dreamberry, the capricious impulses. They didn't work. Since then she'd truly stopped. She'd begun remembering things she'd lost and she didn't forget any more. Her memories were hers. Sleep, however, had never come back under her control. Most nights she would sleep only for the few hours before dawn. When Grace had been particularly difficult that day or, ever so often, when Hope and Jefferson snagged some quiet for themselves at bedtime, she would sleep the full night. As fortune would have it, both of these things were increasing in frequency of late. Grace was very active and loved to run and jump and do all sorts of things they told her not to do, so keeping up with her was getting to be hard work. On the other hand, she slept more regularly, with a normal bedtime, in her own room. It was right next door, Hope's old room, but it was a wall away. That allowed for some privacy when she didn't insist upon having story time until Jefferson was asleep on his feet or, as she sometimes did, beg to sleep with Mama and Papa. All the same, Hope was content in these things. She couldn't fathom how changing it would make her happier. So, the stronger half of her had been hesitant about the trip because it could do just that. Bring change for naught.

 

Hope had put her chips in when she'd found the imp in her living room: she wanted this to be it, their last trip to get it out of their system. Their life was a good one, a safe one, a happy one. They needed to stick to it, not risk it. If they could do this one more thing, make Rumpelstiltskin happy with one last job, maybe, just maybe, he would let them be. A compromise to satisfy both halves. She hadn't gotten together the gall to suggest it to Jefferson yet, but she would. She had a feeling, though, that it wouldn't be a hard sell. He was good at the domestic side, liked the satisfaction it gave. To his surprise and hers he liked it better than the easy life. Hardly ever did Hope see him in low spirits. If Grace was happy and Hope acted happy, he was happy. But he seemed absolutely set on them being really, truly happy, having everything they wanted. Lucky for him, they both had very simple tastes that their less lucrative lifestyle could fairly easily provide. What she didn't know was if he could give up the prospect of travel and still be content in that calling alone, in taking care of them, without the safety net of the hat.

 

"Jefferson?" She asked as they approached their house on the walk back from Geraldine's. "What would you do if you lost the hat?"

 

He laughed quietly. "Thank the bit of chance that took that temptation from me, live a quiet life, and never look back. Why? Are you thinking of setting fire to it? I won't stop you."

 

Hope felt a wave of relief wash over her. He felt the same as her, reverted to reckless adventuring as a guilty indulgence, didn't pine for it with destructive passion. Or at least that was how it sounded.

 

"So, you could be satisfied with just me and Grace, wife the life we've lived this past year or so?"

 

He smiled down at her as if taken a little aback that she would even ask that question seriously. "I think it's been clear that I have been and would be. Or has that not come across? Have I been a grumpy bastard and not realized it?"

 

"No, no," Hope laughed lightly, shaking her head. "No, you've seemed perfectly… at home with it all. I just wanted to make sure you weren't putting that on for mine or Grace's sake."

 

"Hell, no. I couldn't put on anything if I tried, not with you. You see right through me, unlike other people." His grin turned briefly roughish. "But no, I'm happy not being alone. Bless, not being alone has done wonders for my mindset. With you I don't… I don't feel so stretched thin. I'm finally… not running from anything, but always _back_ to something. I know exactly what I want and how to get it. I make sure you're happy and Grace is happy, there's food on the table and wood for the fire. Easy. Uncomplicated. Besides, seeing you smile at me, Grace learning something new, looking at me like I'm her favorite man in the whole world… that's far more exciting than jumping into the hat, and I know the risks that come with 'em. Nothing. No risks except, perhaps, a broken heart."

 

He leaned away from Hope, tipped her chin up to see into her face. "You're not planning on breaking my heart are you?"

 

Hope could feel her lip quivering. "That was really quite touching, my love. I think I'd like that written down."

 

"Don't tease me," he scoffed and shook his head.

 

"No, I'm perfectly serious. And no, I would never even consider breaking your heart. I need it to keep mine together."

 

Jefferson's brow scrunched at the serious tone to her response. "Why, Hope? What's all this about? Are you satisfied?" He suddenly sounded unsure and worried.

 

"Yes, my love, yes. Admittedly, I have this silly, niggling part that thirsts for gallivanting, but it's easily sated with a bit of mischief here and there, twigs in my hair. I just wanted to check that you weren't muzzling a bigger… kind of excitement-hungry hound, metaphorically speaking."

 

"I always assume metaphors, my dear. We've worked that literal streak out of you." He chuckled as he opened the door for her. "No hound here, though. You hit the nail on the head for me with your description. Sometimes it's there, like an itch I'd like to scratch but would do best to leave alone. The relief would only be fleeting and unfulfilling in the end, I know that. First trip in a few years got you ruffled, thinking about things?"

 

"It has."

 

Jefferson took her wrist gently and turned her to look at him. "And what has it made you think?"

 

"I think…"

 

"If you want me throw the thing off a cliff when we get back, I'll do it. I'll set it on fire, I'll cut it up. If it makes you happy, I'm happy to do it."

 

Hope laughed at his exuberance. "Will you--will you let me finish?"

 

He stopped offering hat-destroying scenarios then.

 

"I think maybe we should consider telling the imp that this was our last trip when we get back. We can put it away, lock it up until Grace is old enough to know what we're doing, maybe, eventually come with us to the milder worlds, but only for a bit of fun, not for business. I don't like you being tied to the imp, doing his high-risk, morally-questionable courier work just to give us a few luxuries here and there that we don't really need."

 

"Fine. Yes, excellent, perfect. I can gladly agree to that, if it's what you really want."

 

"Want? What I want, Jefferson, is to watch you come down the stairs with our little girl every day and see how she becomes more and more like you, watch her learn to do her buttons up and look to you, and maybe me if I'm lucky, for approval. I want to keep having little adventures with you and then watch Grace have her own adventure. I--" she burst into laughter at the thought, "I want to watch you watch your little girl have adventures and scare off boys and sit the good ones down for a stern talking to. That'll be excitement enough for me."

 

She laughed to herself again and then looked up at him. His eyes were so blue, she could see her reflection in them as his brow quivered slightly.

 

"I think _you_ should write _that_ down," he said after clearing his throat.

 

"Oh, yes? What for? Though, I think it'd look sweet in a memory book."

 

"That, yes, but it'd also do very nicely for a vow. Was that off the top of your head or have you been working on that?" He breezed through his response so quickly, so casually that Hope almost missed its implication.

 

She choked slightly, gasping when it hit her. "Did you… did you just…?"

 

He sighed and gazed her with a touch of his playfulness pulling at his lips. "Well, you know, I'd planned on it being a bit more… formal." He reached into his coat pocket, pulled a small glinting something out. "It's… it's made from hat wire," he laughed at himself and held a small silverish ring out to Hope, "I _braided_ it from hat wire, it's nothing much, but they're your favorite, starflowers."

 

What he held between his thumb and finger was one of the most intricate little fashionings Hope had ever seen made, and it was beautiful. Into a sweeping, woven pattern of the ring itself he'd managed to work the curving, six-point shape of the starflower blossoms.

 

"The weld point's a bit messy, but at least it won't scratch." He tilted it to show her the miniscule line of melted metal on the inside of the ring. He waited patiently as she wondered at it. Eventually, though, he grew nervous.

 

"Hope?"

 

She shook her head and waved her hands at her face. She legitimately was at a loss for words.

 

"Are you panicking? Do you hate it?"

 

"No! No, you silly man, I love it. It's absolutely gorgeous, perfect! Nothing much? I love it, it's so… _you…_ hat wire," her voice broke as she tried not to cry. "Of course I'm not panicking. You're my whole life, you and Grace. Why would the prospect of commitment make me panic?"

 

"I just thought you really hated the ring. I know you want to be with me, you try to get my trousers off every time Grace blinks."

 

Hope snorted in a very indecorous manner and then shoved Jefferson away, but not before letting him slip the ring onto her finger. "You're a reprehensible man, do you know that?" 

 

"And yet, you keep me around."

 

"Yes, well, I do love you."

 

"And I love you. See? That was simple enough, the ceremony will be a snap. We can have it when we get back, in the forest. It's about time Grace wasn't a bastard anymore."

 

"But that won't change--"

 

"Shush. In the forest. I'll finish up my vows, the ones you heard the last bit of just before, though some was off the top of my head, I'll have to add that bit for sure. And you'll say that incredibly touching and frustratingly extemporaneous confession. It'll be perfect."

 

"It will, but it won't make Grace not a bastard child."

 

"I disagree. Force of willpower. And lies. Should anyone ask, yes we absolutely were married at the ages of eighteen and twenty before we conceived that child."

 

"I do suppose your will is a force of nature," Hope allowed as he bent over to kiss her.

 

"Yes," he said a few minutes later, smoothing out his clothes. "It is, as is yours, which is why Grace is such a little wildfire. Now, let's go get this final trip over with so that we can fetch her and tell her the good news!"

 

"We are not explaining to our four year old daughter the meaning of 'bastard' and why she is one!" Hope smacked him on the arm.

 

"No! Ow. No. That there's going to be a party in the forest. And that you said 'yes.'"

 

"You told Grace you were planning this? And I didn't actually say 'yes' in so many words."

 

Jefferson stopped a few paces away from the cellar. "You didn't say 'yes'?"

 

"Well, I agreed to it, of course. But you never said 'will you be my wife?' and I never said 'yes, I will', technically."

 

He scratched his head. "Yes, you're right. That was a shit proposal. Do you want me to try that again?"

 

"No," Hope shook her head and laughed. "No, it was perfect for us, spontaneous, a little unclear, funny in inappropriate moments. Exactly what our relationship has been."

 

Jefferson nodded. "Good, it worked out organically. I'm rather pleased with it, actually."

 

"Proud of yourself?"

 

"Yeah, a little."

 

Hope snapped her fingers. She'd had an idea. "Will you wait here just one second? I want to get something."

 

Jefferson stopped and kept still as requested in the middle of the cellar staircase. "What? Right here? Can I move to the cellar floor?"

 

"Whatever you want!" Hope shouted back as she tore through the trunk at the foot of their bed. It had to be in there somewhere. It was one of the few things she'd been sure to pack in the folds of her skirts when she left Wonderland. Sure enough, there it was, wound into the hem stitching of her oldest petticoat.

 

"Are you okay?" Jefferson asked as she darted back down to him. "You seemed a little manic there for a moment."

 

"Oh, yes. Yes, I'm fine. I just thought of something that is absolutely perfect. Here." She held out her last memento from Wonderland that she'd kept entirely for herself. "My father's ring. I want you have it. A ring for a ring."

 

Jefferson smiled, one of his soft grins that moved his lips a touch but really reached his eyes. He let her drop it in his palm and then placed it on his hand, alone where once he'd worn a few. He'd pawned them off long since for food or fabric. "Thank you, Hope. I know this is special to you."

 

"It's even more special now, looks far better on your finger than stitched into my underwear."

 

"So that's why I've never seen it? Wait… stitched into your underwear and I never noticed?"

 

"My old petticoat, the one from Wonderland we replaced with the new pieces you made before Olympia. You never got your hands on that one."

 

"Mmm. Your father had a good eye." He thumbed the ring around his finger as he admired it.

 

"Yes, it suits you. Shall we?"

 

"We shall, my fiancée." Jefferson tossed his hat, which he'd been threading through his hands as he waited on Hope, to the ground and pushed her back as the portal spun open. "Last jump."

 

Hope took his proffered hand. "Last jump."

 

Jefferson had taken Hope to some truly undeniably lovely worlds, but the Pole was the only one she could call stunning. It was breath-taking. She literally caught herself gasping as she stepped through the red door way. It was a landscape that could only be justly described as picturesque. Rolling hills and lush, bright evergreens covered in a fresh powder of snow beside a frozen creek, directly abutting a field of bright flowers and newly budding trees. Those two sights stretched out, side by side, for as far as Hope could see in front of her, and above it, as though floating on a cloud, was a great crystalline palace just perched on a midair island.

 

"Welcome to the Pole," Jefferson whispered in her ear, his enjoyment of her wonder evident even in his quietest tones. "We've turned out on the edge of Spring so we won't need the snow gear."

 

He tossed the leather bags and cloaks back through the portal.  
 

"I suspected the door might turn us out somewhere near the season we're actually in, but I was wrong. Fall and Summer are along that way." He pointed out across the vastness of the wintry and vernal landscapes. "Come on, we've got a bit of a hike."

 

Hope marveled at everything as they made their way through the flatlands of Spring. Everything was so idyllic and so pristine, captured at the very point of new life.

 

"Is it always like this? So perfect?"

 

Jefferson nodded, held his hand out to help her across a small babbling stream. "So far as I know. I've only been here one other time though. Makes sense, four sections, each permanently in their season. I don't think they would change if they could. The Pole's different."

 

"We should have the ceremony here…"

 

"I thought we agreed this was the last jump," he laughed and tugged at her hand. "We can't go making exceptions willy-nilly."

 

"Yes, I suppose you're right. It's only that this world is so lovely."

 

"And sterile."

 

Hope frowned but then realized what he meant. Something had been missing since they'd gotten there. "Where are all the creatures?"

 

"There aren't any. They can't live in this, they need change. Everything alive in this realm is up there." He pointed to the floating island, now directly above them. "In the Palace of Hours."

 

Hope craned her neck up to look at it. "And how exactly do we get up there, Jefferson?"

 

"There's… a way. You might not like it, but there's a way."

 

He was right. Hope didn't like it.

 

"It's called an elevator. You stand inside of it and it lifts you up." Jefferson pushed on the small of her back but Hope dug her heels in.

 

"How?"

 

"There's a cable. There. See it? And it's cranked up."

 

"A box pulled up a line hundreds of feet into the air? No, thank you. I'd rather not die like a sardine in a tin."

 

Jefferson sighed. "Well, it's the only way up and I've been in it. It's strange, but it works. I survived it."

 

"Ha! Oh, yes. You survived one go, so why not tempt fate again? Absolutely, not."

 

"Well then, I'll just have to go without you-- what?"

 

Hope was holding firmly onto his arm.

 

"Can't we… just _not,_ and leave instead?"

 

"Do you think Rumpelstiltskin will even consider leaving us alone for a second if we don't finish this for him? No. It's either we call it off with him all debts and deals finished or we don't get it called off at all. Now, are you staying or are you coming?"

 

The creepily enigmatic assurance that Grace would always have someone watching over her from the imp rang through Hope's head. Perhaps it was better not to split up.

 

"Fine," she replied, far less angry than she had intended to sound. She stepped inside the contraption and buried her face in Jefferson' chest. "But if this thing breaks…"

 

"It won't break," Jefferson assured her, his arms firm and steady around her. If it did break, surely he would catch her.

 

The sensation of moving upward without physically moving upward made Hope's stomach turn. She was queasy instantly, Jefferson stroking her hair and rubbing her back in an attempt to keep her from being sick. When the thing finally stopped, she staggered out and keeled onto her knees. She wasn't sick, but she felt like she was going to be.

 

"It's a strange feeling, isn't it?" He said with all sympathy and then held out a hand to her. "It's better on the way down. The Clauses are this way. I want to get this over with."

 

The 'this way' that Jefferson meant was hardly subtle. Standing up, Hope found herself in a grand, circular hall divided into four sections radiating out from the point where she stood. 'This way' was a clean, softly lit cascade of crystal and rich white fabrics and furs. It looked like winter without the cold.

 

"What… what is the point?" She asked as they walked past a great pair of pine trees framing the exiting door way, all bedecked and smelling crisp.

 

"I would conjecture the point is to feel at home when they're not out… making the seasons happen." Jefferson stopped at a fork in the hall, peered at the rich script writing labeling each hall. "Ah, Hall of Hibernation, this direction."

 

"And… who's 'they'?" Hope asked, also wondering what in the world a Sweet Suite was.

 

"The Four Wind spirits, they're the Season Stewards, and then the four Festal Guardians, Claus for the Winter Solstice; the Vernal Equinox is the Rabbit; the Summer Solstice, the Dog; and the Autumnal Equinox is Harvest, she's the lady with the Cornucopia," he added as though, of course, Hope knew that. "Those eight and then their helpers, elves, nymphs, sprites, fairies, the whole deal."

 

"Right… and we're stealing from them. That is absolutely a well-thought out plan that will not end with disaster."

 

Jefferson shrugged as he stopped in front of a huge, deep-lacquered wooden door labeled Hall of Hibernation. "I don't think they'll mind that much. Jack Frost, the North Wind, doesn't like being put in an urn when he's misbehaving, I assume, I wouldn't. And the Claus… well, he can make anything. I'd bet he can make another." He pushed the door open and backed inside.

 

'Hall' didn't quite cover the extent and magnificence of this giant room. It was easily miles long, lined with shelves and bunks. And those shelves and bunks were stuffed with the strangest hodge-podge of toys, tools and containers Hope had ever seen.

 

"Just what hibernates here?"

 

"I think hibernation is just one of the things that occurs in this place," Jefferson answered, a little thunderstruck himself. "From what I heard, this is the storage room, for everything not actively in use."

 

"Or… actively living?" Hope suggested, pointing to two perfectly green, almost shining with dew, pine trees that were the size of her hand on a nearby shelf. "They're so perfect and lovely," she added with more wonder than shock as she edged closer to them.

 

"Maybe not touch. I suspect those glass containers are the magic keeping them that size."

 

Hope pulled her hand back and then hopped to Jefferson's side. "Right. Okay, what are we looking for?"

 

"Urn, vase, jug sort of thing. About yea high," Jefferson held his hands apart, "rather plain… looks like this." He stopped in front of another shelf, pointed up to a vase near the top.

 

"Oh, alright… was that too easy or is that just me?"

 

Jefferson pulled up a ladder and started climbing. "Uh, it was pretty… easy, but I'm not about to look a gift horse in the mouth."

 

"It could be a… I don't know, a trap?"

 

"In Claus's home? Doubtful." Jefferson gently picked up the urn and then waited, looking around for the doubted trap. "No? I think we're okay."

 

It seemed nothing was going to come down on their heads and he slowly started to climb back down the ladder. He grinned over his shoulder at Hope as he was stepping back onto the floor. "See--"

 

"That's mine, you know…"

 

Hope leapt about a foot in the air and Jefferson's eyes nearly bugged out of his skull.

 

"I mean, I'm not going to complain, or anything, but what could you want with it?"

 

He was only a boy, it seemed, a youth with silvery hair and a curious smirk. Perched atop a staff with his head quirked to the side he looked harmless, but Hope had learned that seeming playful did not always amount to being benign. He looked between them, his grin growing and then hopped to the ground. Snowflakes fluttered off of him as he moved.

 

"Aw, come on, I'm not gonna tattle on you. I just wanna know," he shrugged and circled the two of them. "What do two humans want with my snow globe? Don't scared. I don't bite, not literally."

 

The air dropped several degrees as he stepped near them. Hope shivered.

 

"Uh… " Jefferson managed ineloquently.

 

He scoffed a laugh and leaned on his staff. "Oh, okay, okay… I'll make this easier. I'm Jack Frost -- though I figured you knew that already, since you're stealing my personal bad boy corner -- I live here, bring the winter… ringing any bells?" He nodded and shook his head alternatively as he glanced back and forth between Jefferson and Hope. "Now's when you respond…"

 

Hope and Jefferson both seemed to snap out of the frozen wordlessness that came with the surprise of seeing this youth.

 

"I'm Jefferson."

 

"Hope."

 

Jack Frost grinned. "Oh, yes, I remember _you…_ you weren't children too long ago." He pointed to Hope, "excellent snow caterpillars, even if it was only once." Then to Jefferson, "I didn't mean for you to break your arm. I got overenthusiastic about the ice."

 

Hope felt her breath catch. That was a real memory, the one snowfall in Wonderland. She'd made about a dozen snow caterpillars. Jefferson just blinked rapidly.

 

"And now you're portal-jumpers… together… fascinating. Fun. I wouldn't have guessed it. You, with the hat and the running and jumping, yes. You… not so much… I figured you'd be… something more… imaginative." He tapped his chin as he considered Hope. "Oh, well! So, why are you here?"

 

"Your urn," Jefferson replied flatly. He was a touch gobsmacked.

 

"Aw, guys, come on. The best answer is 'for the fun of it. So, you're here for money… what a shame. That hat could be oodles of fun! Have you managed to get it to where you can direct it? Can you open inner-world portals? Do. You. Pull. Rabbits out of it?! Because if you do, I have to go get Bunny." He leapt into the air, hovered with his staff for a moment. "Yes, no? Yes… No? I'm not getting him if--"

 

"No. No rabbits. Just me. And Hope and the occasional piece of valuable, stolen property."

 

Jack Frost pouted briefly and dropped to the ground with a small flurry. "Boo. Well, you should think about broadening your portal horizons. It could be entertaining."

 

"Inner world portals?" Jefferson asked and stepped back as Jack smacked his staff into the ground with delight. "Without using the portal room? That's not... cheating?"

 

 _"Maybe..._ Oh, I love a good fly-over, but sometimes it's just easier to hop through instead of over." He moved his staff and exposed a small portal in the ground. The other side glowed with a warm, gentle light. The smell of apples wafted through. "You just have reign in the magic and focus on the place. Don't let it go on its own. You have to have control. Gotta find limits, even for good stuff."

 

"Right…" Jefferson cleared his throat after Jack winked at Hope. "Smaller, more focused. Got it."

 

"Time and place, Jefferson. That's all you really need." He blew a few snowflakes off his shoulder and then popped back atop his staff. "So, who are you thieving for?"

 

Jefferson looked at the urn in his hands and then held it back out.

 

"No, no. I don't want it. You should absolutely take it. I _plan_ on being good… for the most part, so I don't need it. Who does?"

 

"Rumpelstiltskin."

 

"Huh. The imp? He's _naughty…_ be careful."

 

Hope watched, entranced as he swirled little snow drifts onto the nearby shelf, whipped up tiny little snowmen, created intricate ice patterns.

 

Jefferson was not so bewitched. He'd moved back to skeptical and cautious. "Naughty? I think you've got a bigger reputation for that across the worlds."

 

"For fun!" Frost leapt down and twirled his staff, creating a mini snow shower inside. "I'm sometimes unseasonable… and a little nippy but it's all good mannered. The imp… he does it for other reasons. I've watched him." For a second the smile faded from his face, but then rebounded. "Oh! If he starts asking for magic rings or starlight, just say 'no', do not go to that world. Nothing good is ever happening there. You know where I like? Candyland. Also, your world."

 

Jefferson stepped back away from the small icy gust that came from him pointing. "Lovely winters, nice appreciation for snow. A few too many evil what-its and who-nows, but it'll do with its happily-ever-afters. And I like yours, too." He pointed now to Hope. "Though I wish it liked me better. I'm not allowed there much, but if I were… yeesh, what an opportunity you're missing pun-wise. Think of it: a Winter Wonderland!"

 

He waved his arms through the air as little snow bursts spelled out the words in glittering fractals. Jefferson and Hope were solidly confused.

 

"No? It fits the song? No… I suppose not. Not your world," he sighed and then extended his hand. "Well, nice seeing you two again and thanks for getting that off my hands."

 

Jefferson reached out hesitantly, hissed slightly as they shook. "Cold."

 

"Yes, comes with the territory. OH!" He broke into an even bigger grin as he shook Hope's. "Oh! You're Grace's parents!" His enthusiasm hit an all-time high. "I should have seen it! Yes, you are! Oh, oh, oh!" He was hopping around, floating in mid-air. "You should have brought her! I've been waiting for her to be old enough to play! AH! What an amazing little child! So much energy and enthusiasm! The biggest, brightest ideas! Oh, that bird!"

 

He dropped to the ground suddenly and narrowed his eyes at the two of them. "What are you doing here?! You should be at home! With her! Forget portal-jumping! Kids have the best magic."

 

Hope and Jefferson shifted a little uncomfortably. Grace didn't have magic, though Frost seemed terribly sincere about it.

 

"You're wasting your time away from her! It only lasts so long and then," he snapped and all the snow in the room disappeared, "it's gone. Like the white snow. You don't need faraway lands and adventures, Grace can brew them up right in here." He tapped Jefferson on the forehead and bounded away. "Their magic's the best, the purest! Imagination. It'll make anything happen!"

 

Hope and Jefferson took a step back as he lunged for them. "Come on! You're missing it! She's building castles! Creating new animals! Becoming Queen of her own world and you're missing it!" He caught them both between his arms and cracked his staff against the ground again. They dropped through the floor, Jefferson and Hope screaming, only to flutter safely onto the snow blanketed ground in front of the portal.

 

"Well?" He looked between them, excitement brimming over, eyes bright. "What are you waiting for? Back to Grace! Four's such a great age. Cherish her, every second." He waggled his silvery brows, waved when they didn't budge and then finally sent a gust of freezing air to push them through the door. "Go!"

 

"That was… strange." Hope finally said as the two of them stood in the hat's door room, trying to find their bearings.

 

"I'm never looking at snow the same way again." Jefferson rubbed his face but didn't succeed at wiping the surprise from it. He bent over to place the urn in the leather packs that were waiting for them. "That bastard broke my arm."

 

"He _really_ likes kids…"

 

"Yeah… I mean, snow is fun when you're young, I guess it makes sense, but… that was intense, with the imagination magic. He was verging on a little mad."

 

Hope frowned slightly. "Overenthusiastic, maybe, but he had a point. A point that fit rather perfectly with our decision. We're happy enough just at home, with Grace."

 

"That's true." He scooped her into an arm and led her back to the Enchanted Forest's door. "Let's go home."

 

Rumpelstiltskin was waiting for them in their sitting room when the returned.

 

"I felt a little tingle," he explained, "an inkling like a deal was going to be broken. So, I came to check!"

 

"No," Jefferson pulled around the pack. "No broken deal. Here." He handed the imp the urn. "We're even."

 

The imp cackled and vanished the urn, only to replace it with a sack of gold. "Excellent! Now--"

 

"Oh, we're not done."

 

Rumpelstiltskin stilled, looked suspiciously between them. "Oh-ho. So, dearies, not a deal to be broken, but an arrangement ended. I see."

 

"Mm-hmm, listen, seriously." Jefferson set aside the gold and stood directly in front of the imp. "This needs to have been my _\--our_ last trip. We have a daughter and she's getting old enough to where she knows when we leave, and… as the eccentric, though correct Jack Frost just reminded us, this is a… magical time for her and we're missing important parts of it every time we leave. We run the risk of missing all of it even. So, if you understand me… I don't plan on missing anymore."

 

The Dark One's face was unreadable as Jefferson spoke. Briefly, Hope worried he would laugh their request away, or worse turn them into frogs or something else. Instead, though he only waved a hand.

 

"Very well."

 

"Very well? That's it?"

 

"It's your hat, hatter. Ours was just a friendly business arrangement. If you choose to hang up your hat, it's your choice to retire, not mine!" He grinned and bowed, taking a step away. "It's been a pleasure doing business with you! I won't be seeing you again." And quick as a wink he was gone.

 

"That was too easy," Hope decided aloud.

 

"Maybe. Maybe not. It's hard to tell with him. But…" Jefferson turned to take Hope's face in his hands. "I think we have other, more pleasant things to think about. Let's go get Grace, tell her about the party in the forest with her parents."


	8. Five Years Old

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A birthday, a wedding, a bit of additional celebration and a few guests.

"Are you ready?"

 

Hope hummed in response, not quite awake. She stirred a little more as he pulled her into the crook of his body so he could breathe the words against her ear.

 

"It's a big day. I'm surprised you're still sleeping."

 

"I'm tired," she mumbled back, though she snuggled deeper into his embrace. "All the excitement kept me up late."

 

Jefferson tutted. "Still having trouble falling asleep?"

 

"Some nights. Not most, and like you said, today's a big day. I was anxious."

 

"Yes, well, we've waited long enough. You deserve to be excited. I hope you mean that when you say anxious, not nervous." He took the soft bit of her ear in between his lips, sucked on it lightly.

 

"Mmm, no, definitely excited. What have I got to be nervous about? We hardly have any guests for me to make a goose of myself in front of." She spun around in his arms. "Oh, and that cake…"

 

"Yes, it'll be a lovely cake. I'm not really in the mood for cake _right now_ , though."

 

Hope batted at his head lightly as he slipped under the covers, but it was a weak front of resistance.

 

"Jefferson… maybe not today… If you had a hard time staying asleep you know that she--"

 

"Papa! Mama! It's my birthday!" Grace threw wide the door and sent Jefferson jerking out from under the blankets so hard he fell out of the bed. Grace didn't seem to mind, she came bounding across the room and leapt onto his chest before jumping onto the bed with her mother. "I'm five! Five, five, five!"

 

"Yes, you are, darling girl!" Hope swept Grace up into her arms and turned her away from where Jefferson was trying to adjust to the sudden change in his morning plans. Thank everything he was still wearing shorts.

 

"Happy birthday, my dear Grace." He kissed her head and sat back down on the bed. "What is your wish for the day?"

 

"The cake!" She crowed and began jumping on the bed. "I want the cake!"

 

Jefferson looked at Hope and shook his head. Like mother like daughter. "Yes, of course, you want the cake. But what else?"

 

"The party in the forest! Are my friends coming?"

 

"Yes," Hope grabbed her hand to keep her from launching off the bed and through the window. "Ellie and Pete and Ms. Porter will all be there, and you'll get to play with them while Mama and Papa have their little celebration."

 

Hope and Jefferson had decided that their lifestyle couldn't afford a wedding just for its own sake. They didn't like the idea of having Grace kept watch over while they knocked off in the forest in a big, adult party. Then they realized that they didn't know enough people to have a big adult party. At that point, the idea of the two of them doing basically what they'd already done, saying something meaningful and exchanging rings, with only a few more people around to witness it felt silly and indulgent. So, they'd decided to combine it with another big event, Grace's fifth birthday. She'd never had a proper party, but that year Ellie had turned five as well and had been allowed to invite Grace over for cake and games. That seemed a good enough idea in their book and they'd planned something similar: cake and games, but in Grace's favorite place, the forest, and at the same time, a few quiet words exchanged in front of the adults. It was going to work out just perfectly.

 

"And I get to wear my new dress?" Grace sprung across the bed and dangerously close to Jefferson's lap. He swept her up instead and swung her around.

 

"Of course you do!"

 

"And Mama will wear hers?" He hooked her onto his hip, letting her hang around his neck.

 

"Why, yes. Yes she will." Jefferson smiled over at Hope.

 

"It's so pretty."

 

"Yes, it is, my Grace. And Mama looks very pretty in it."

 

"Like a princess!"

 

Hope laughed and waved to Grace. "That's sweet my darling, but you're the one who's going to look like a princess!"

 

Jefferson handed down Grace but held Hope's eye. "Mama and Grace both, then."

 

"Two princesses!" Grace declared and started playing with her mother's hair. "I wanna have my hair like Mama's. I wish my dress was like hers…"

 

"Oh, your dress is lovely, Grace! You like green!"

 

"Like the forest!"

 

"Yes. Like the forest." Hope stood from the bed and took Grace's hand, about to lead her back to her room to get dressed. Jefferson stepped in.

 

"Here, I'll help. Mama needs time to get her own dress ready."

 

"You can't help, Papa."

 

"I can so! I helped make the dress!"

 

Grace gave him her primmest smile and then took his hand. "Fine, Papa. I'll show you."

 

They'd saved for a while to get the fabric for Grace's dress. She'd been admiring it in market, whenever she had the attention span to actually look at the cloth in the seamstress's shop. It was a sweet little dress, too. A soft green like the light under the leaves. Hope's dress had taken even longer to pay for. It wasn't fancy by any standard, nor was it white. She'd preferred a gentle tone of yellow, a buttercream and Jefferson agreed. She looked like sunshine in it.

 

"What are you wearing, Papa?"

 

"My best hat, Grace," he answered, kneeling down to help her buckle her shoes. She'd gotten the dress on successfully on her own.

 

"The blue one?" She asked in wonder.

 

"That's right. The blue one." He patted her back and led her towards the door. "Come on. Let's get that hair brushed while Papa gets dressed."

 

Grace sat happily on their bed, brushing her curly hair as Jefferson put on his nicest clothing. It had been a while since he'd worn these, some were a little stiff, the shirt a little tight across the shoulders. He'd make it work though. He looped his necktie around and secured it over his collar, buttoned the waistcoat. Then he pulled out his old coat, the one he'd worn for traveling to royals, the one that would have paid for their meals for a month, if Hope had let him sell the thing.

 

"You look fancy, Papa," Grace breathed from the bed and Jefferson melted.

 

"Thank you, Grace. I want to look my best for you and Mama." He leaned over at the edge of the bed and let Grace feel the rich fabrics.

 

She touched the silk and velvet with careful awe, her little mouth open and big brown eyes wide. Then, suddenly she sat back and reached for his forehead. A tiny echo of her mother, she pushed the hair out of his eyes and nodded.

 

"There." She sat back, pleased with her work and then pointed to the shelf. "Hat," she demanded.

 

Jefferson chuckled. "Oh, not quite yet, my dear Grace. The hat's for later. Okay. Up! Let's get your hair fixed and teeth brushed."

 

Hope was at the mirror in what had become their bathroom. Grace gasped dramatically at her mother in the dress and then scampered to the bathtub to sit on its edge. Jefferson almost followed suit, staggering in the doorway to gaze at her. Absolute sunshine.

 

"Oh, Mama! You're a princess for sure!"

 

"And you're a precocious little princess as well. Look at you bright as a new leaf!" Hope spun around to inspect Grace's outfit. "Come here, let me fasten your hair up."

 

"Papa looks so fancy, too!" Grace was bouncing too much for Hope to actually pin her hair.

 

"I bet," Hope said, laying her hands firmly on Grace's shoulders and then looking over. "Oh, you're quite right, darling. Papa looks perfectly dashing." She beamed at him. "Aren't we glad Papa didn't sell his coat?"

 

"Yes!"

 

"Okay, hold still. I want to get this just perfect for my darling birthday princess."

 

Jefferson finally unrooted himself from the spot and knelt in front of Grace. "Here, let me help." He gathered stray strands and handed them to Hope as she quickly plaited Grace's hair, but most importantly, he kept her still.

 

"Right. Brush your teeth. Off you go." He pushed Grace over to the basin and then stood up and straightened out his clothes.

 

Hope let herself linger on him for a moment and then, of all things, blushed.

 

"What?"

 

"Nothing," she answered under her breath. "You just look like you did when I first saw you. All you need is a hat."

 

He flipped said hat over by the brim and then perched it atop his head. "There."

 

Hope took a deep breath and smoothed her hands over her skirts. "Like a lost traveler with too much mischief and not enough sense," she said fondly, straightening his necktie and then splaying her fingers out over his chest. "The man I fell in love with on sight. Just stunning."

 

"Your hat, Papa!" Grace's delighted giggles broke their quiet moment, Hope turning away to share in Grace's excitement and Jefferson kneeling to let Grace inspect him properly. "I love it."

 

"Isn't it stunning, Grace? Your papa makes the most beautiful hats. And looks the best in them," she whispered conspiratorially before tickling her. "Okay! If we're all set. We should head promptly to the forest. We don't want to keep everyone waiting."

 

There were exactly six people who were going to be in attendance for their birthday party meets wedding ceremony. None of them were waiting for them when Hope, Grace and Jefferson reached the clearing they'd agreed on. That was just as well. The small family enjoyed the opportunity to bask in the soft morning sunlight together. Grace played with twigs and leaves, finding caterpillars and little birds to chase. Hope and Jefferson watched happily, leaning against a big oak. He flipped off his hat again, checking in the lining that the ring was still secure. It was.

 

The week before the two of them had re-exchanged rings so that they could slip them on each other for the vows. Jefferson had taken the opportunity to fix Hope's up a little, to make it a bit more like a wedding ring.

 

"I can't believe she's five years old already," Hope sighed beside him and he quickly replaced his hat.

 

"Yes, it's been quick, hasn't it?"

 

"Very. I'm glad… I'm glad we took the time really live it with her."

 

Jefferson could tell she was getting teary. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pressed his lips into her hair. She even smelled like sunshine. "Me too. She's amazing. Isn't she?"

 

They both almost jumped out of their skins as Grace launched herself from a stump, but she landed lightly, living up to her name and trotted on.

 

"Yes… yes, she is. Lonely, but amazing."

 

"She has Ellie and Peter. She's not completely lonely."

 

"Oh, I know. I just know that look she gets when we play tea. I used to get that look."

 

Jefferson nodded. "Well, we could just make her a friend, couldn't we?" He ran his finger over the thin skin on her collarbone. She laughed but rolled her shoulder out from under his hand.

 

"I don't know, Jefferson. You don't find it strange that we haven't already?"

 

"What?"

 

She pressed her lips tight together. "Now's not the time for this. We can talk about it later."

 

Jefferson was just about to reply that it absolutely was the time, but Grace went streaking off to the right and into Geraldine Porter's arms.

 

"Hello, little Grace! My aren't we pretty today. Oh, and look at Mommy and Daddy, aren't they lovely, too?" Ms. Porter set Grace down and then extended her arm for her father.

 

Mr. Porter was ancient. He was also the only one in the village who oversaw marriage vows.

 

Jefferson gave Hope a worried look and then slipped away to help Mr. Porter to one of the stumps they were using for seats. The rest of their guests milled in shortly: little Ellie and Peter came trouncing in in their tiny little dress clothing and began ruining those clothes with Grace in the dirt almost immediately, their mother and father, Peter Sr. and Hannah, trailing in their wake.

 

It wasn't long before Grace had instituted the beginning of the first of her birthday games, all of which she was delighted to be in charge of, this one being the rigorous hide, seek and chase that she ruthlessly excelled at. As soon as the children had run off, Peter Sr. strolling along on supervisor duty, and Grace's voice floated back to them counting down, Mr. Porter regained his feet and went to stand in front of the great oak. Hope and Jefferson followed, standing in front of him with Geraldine and Hannah flanking them as witnesses.

 

"Do you have the words?" Mr. Porter asked and when they nodded, added, "do you have the rings?"

 

Jefferson removed his hat and slipped the ring out. Hope reached into her bodice, shrugging as Jefferson quirked his eyebrow at her. For now, they were going to forget the argument they'd almost started minutes before.

 

"Join hands." Mr. Porter waited as they took each other by the left hand, each fiddling with the rings in their right. "Hope, your words."

 

Hope took a big breath, her eyes finding Jefferson's and holding steady even when her lips quavered. "Jefferson, I told you once what I wanted. It was the truth from my heart and it remains the same. I won't repeat it now, because it was better said then without shining or affect. I'll only say that, if I only ever have you and Grace, I will still be happier than I even imagined myself to be. That I promise." She sniffed and dropped her eyes. "And that's the whole of it. It's not getting any better."

 

Everyone laughed quietly as Hope cleared her throat and swallowed an embarrassed grin. Jefferson nodded, taking his moment to compose himself. Speaking in front of people wasn't a strong suit, not when it wasn't all sarcasm and bravado. This was sincere, this was important.

 

"My Hope." He began and then shook his head. "My dear Hope, you know my heart-- you are my heart. I've said it before but it bears repeating. With you I don't feel stretched too thin, or lost or abandoned. I finally can stop running. The only running, in fact, I'll do is back to you. No matter what, I'll always come back to you. You and Grace. That I promise."

 

Hope tilted her head to the side, not quite smiling but definitely glowing with something. Jefferson winked.

 

"The words have been said and witnessed by those present. Now, the rings. Jefferson, your ring."

 

He reached out and flipped the ring between his thumb and forefinger, readying to slide it on Hope's finger. She let out a tiny gasp and looked up at him. The one diamond he'd saved had fit perfectly in its woven band, right at the center of the biggest starflower.

 

"Repeat after me: with this ring, I do thee wed."

 

Jefferson slipped it over her knuckle, smiling. "With this ring, Hope, I do thee wed."

 

Mr. Porter cleared his throat at the addition but continued on. "Hope, your ring."

 

She didn't even wait for him to instruct her. Hope took his finger firmly and slid her father's ring onto it. "With this ring, I do thee wed, Jefferson."

 

"And may the couple kiss to seal the bond," Mr. Porter grumbled, and stepped back. The witnesses clapped politely as Jefferson stooped over and took Hope by the chin to kiss her. They stopped and started tittering as Hope flung her arms around his neck and kissed back with a little more tongue than he'd anticipated.

 

"Congratulations to Hope and Jefferson, wedded before witnesses this day."

 

They broke apart at Mr. Porter's exasperated tone and thanked him. Hope gave Jefferson a private grin and then padded away to talk with Geraldine and Hannah. He spent a few minutes shaking hands with Mr. Porter and Peter before heading to the hollow where they'd left the cake with the wiring over it, protecting it from insects and leaves, as well as Grace's present. She was still running wild through the woods, evidently about to win by the demented cackling he heard from her. Carrying both cake and gift he headed back to the company to light gasps and applause.

 

"Oh, what a lovely cake!" Geraldine exclaimed.

 

And it had better be a lovely cake, too. It had cost them a pretty penny to get the supplies together to make. That, and Jefferson and Hope had been working on it for a few days. Grace must have been able to smell the sugar because she came darting up not a second later, oohing and aahing. She especially liked that she could read her name on it. Jefferson pulled out the five hand-made candles they'd prepared from his pocket and set them gently on the top tier of the cake.

 

"Alright, alright. Hi, everyone, thank you for coming." He bowed his head briefly to their very small pool of guest and then fished for his matches. "Now, we've had the ceremony, but we haven't quite gotten to the most exciting part have we?"

 

Grace was bouncing on her toes, about to vibrate out of her skin. She shook her head hard as he looked down at her.

 

"No, not quite. So, if we could, I'd like that we take this moment to wish our dear Grace a very happy fifth birthday." He pulled out the matches finally and struck one alight, catching it to each of the candles in turn.

 

Hope edged over to him and folded her hands around his in a tight squeeze. Grace couldn't wait any longer, she leapt into his arms, and Jefferson lifted her up so she could blow out the candles.

 

"And, make a wish and blow the candles out, my dear Grace."

 

Everyone clapped and called out 'Happy Birthday' as Grace blew hard. She didn't quite make it, but with Hope's and his help the candles went out and she went galloping away.

 

The rest of the party consisted mostly of a free-for-all for Grace terrorizing Ellie and Pete in her utter enthusiasm for everything and their combined over-stimulation from the cake's sugar. Mr. Porter and Geraldine left soon afterwards, the old man both wearied by the youngsters and put off by Jefferson and Hope's disregard for tradition. So, Hope and Jefferson watched from the sidelines, like the millers as the children ran themselves out.

 

"The cake was good," Jefferson commented as he return to Hope's side from fixing a busted birthday buckle. "Do you think she's ready for the gift?"

 

"No. I think not. We'll save it for home."

 

Jefferson scooted the parcel behind the stump on which the remains of the cake sat and then sighed. It was time to break the spell.

 

"Not now," Hope preempted him.

 

"See, I think that it needs to be now, because I have plans for us once Grace passes out," Jefferson replied, earning an intrigued stare from Hope.

 

"Oh? And what are those?"

 

He sucked in a breath full of dramatic hesitance. "Well… I don't want to spoil the surprise, but it certainly involves having this conversation beforehand."

 

Hope gave him a sly smile and then clicked her teeth together, considering it. "Very well."

 

"Very well."

 

They stood in silence, each waiting for the other to begin. Jefferson was just taking his steadying breath when Hope muttered something. He didn't quite catch it.

 

"What was that?"

 

Hope shook her head and then repeated, "sleep is not the only thing that has become uncertain with me, Jefferson."

 

He let the implications of that statement sink in. "The dreamberries…"

 

"Yes, they… took other things from me for a time."

 

He sighed heavily and dragged his knuckles across his brow. "So… we can't--"

 

"I don't know about that. The past year things have returned… just not as regularly as they could."

 

"I see."

 

"I'm sorry, Jefferson," she breathed and he snapped to attention.

 

"Sorry? Why should you be sorry? Not to me. No. I'm happy. Another child would only add to that, the lack not disappoint." He brought her head to his chest, settled his chin on top. "No. Nothing to be sorry about."

 

"That doesn't mean we can't keep trying," she added a little later with a tone of playfulness.

 

"Mmm. I plan on it."

 

* * *

Jefferson had taken the news well considering the thought of her losing her ability to give him more children had left Hope crying herself to sleep for weeks. Though, admittedly, she hadn't actually fallen asleep then. She thought his response over one last time as she tucked a very tired, nearly comatose Grace into bed that night. Jefferson had almost dropped her on the walk home and she'd still not woken up.

 

They'd given her the gift as Ellie and Pete had left with their parents and that had sent her rocketing into another multi-hour bout of play. She'd taken the Mock Turtle, which Hope and Jefferson had fashioned, and which she called Mr. Tortoise despite Hope's attempts to explain that it was very different creature, with her to each of her play spots and embarked on very elaborate pretend scenarios. The sun had been setting when Jefferson had finally snatched her up to drag her home. And then, after the lack of afternoon nap and the surplus of activity she had passed clean out in his arms.

 

Hope tucked Mr. Tortoise in with Grace just in case and then backed quietly from the room. No matter what happened, the last thing she wanted was for Grace to wake up and come barging into their room again. Hopefully the comfort of her new toy would prevent that should she wake.

 

"All settled in," she reported, slipping into their bedroom and shutting the door.

 

Jefferson was at the wardrobe, hanging up his dress clothes. It was a shame. He'd looked so stunning in them. He stretched after pulling off the waistcoat and unbuttoning the shirt.

 

"Those are too small, I'm afraid," he muttered regretfully and stashed them away. "Too bad."

 

"Eh…" Hope shrugged. "I like you better this way." She ran her nails lightly over the culprits, the breadth of his shoulders and back.

 

"You like the rugged look better?" He pulled off the shirt and put that away as well.

 

"Oh, by far. Hard work looks good on you."

 

"Good to know it pays off in more than one way." He stopped undressing as Hope more thoroughly ran her hands over his bare back, then around to his chest and stomach, to his trousers. "You want to do this instead?"

 

She kissed him between his shoulder blades and stepped away. "No. You go on right ahead. I need all the time I can have to get this gorgeous monstrosity off of me."

 

Hope was still struggling with the outer layer of the dress itself when Jefferson started helping, stark naked.

 

"That… that, as lovely a sight as it is, is probably not your best idea, my love. What would you do if our daughter decide to come in, scared by a sugar-fueled nightmare of some sort?"

 

He winced. "Only add to her emotional trauma, I expect."

 

"Yes," Hope laughed, "precisely. At least your shorts."

 

Jefferson uncinched her dress finally for her, with a flourish, and then pulled on a pair of shorts. "Fine." He stepped around her to start with her petticoats as she undid her corset. "But you know, traditionally, one's wedding night is supposed to be more… romantic."

 

"Mmm… traditionally, I think, wedding nights are supposed to come before the five year old child."

 

"Good point."

 

Hope hummed happily when his warm hands finally found skin. "Good gracious, that took long enough."

 

"Elaborate clothing comes with a price."

 

"Indeed, having to wait to be properly fondled."

 

Jefferson snorted. "Such language from the mother of a five year old child."

 

"I'm a mother for a reason. I allowed myself to be fondled." Hope kicked away all the cloth and stood in just her chemise. "You know? I think maybe… maybe we should do this downstairs. I don't know if I feel like biting a pillow tonight."  
 

"As loud as you are she'll still hear you downstairs." Jefferson was already running his hands up her legs, but stopped and dropped her chemise back to her ankles. "But alright. Not on the kitchen table, though. Too loud, too squeaky."

 

 _"Now_ it is," Hope giggled as she ran her hands over his chest one more time before darting to the door. "I have a different idea, anyway."

 

"Shit!" Jefferson hissed several minutes later, tripping over his shorts. "Oh no, I'm going to drop you, Hope. Shit."

 

He stumbled over and the whole house shook as the two of them hit the stairwell wall. Both froze, waiting for the inevitable shriek of fear. They waited and waited, but none came. Then Hope fell into giggles, squeezing her legs together to hitch up Jefferson's hips.

 

"That… was… a nightmare," she whispered in his ear, just as soon as she could reach it. "Tripped over your own shorts."

 

"You were tickling me."

  
"Mmm, with what? My hands were just trying to hold myself up."

 

"Stop that. This was your idea."

 

"Why weren't you holding me up?"

 

"I was trying get my shorts off, clearly. The ones you insisted on me putting back on."

 

"Well? Are they off?"

 

Jefferson hoisted her high onto his waist and kicked. "Off."

 

"Good." She ran her fingers through his hair and then picked up kissing his jaw and ear where she'd left off when they'd taken a tumble. "Was this what was tickling?"

 

"No, sure wasn't," he murmured back, moving his hands to hold her tighter, cupping her into him. "You keep that up, and hold on. Now, just what did Geraldine tell you? I need to do what?"

 

"Well, first, I think I said to lean me up against something. Instead you just scooped me up and look where that got us."

 

"Against a wall…"

 

Hope laughed and then covered her mouth. It had been louder than she'd intended. "Yes, against a wall which is where we should have been in the first place. Now, if you'll just prop me, yes, there…" she pressed her shoulders back against the wood and loosened her hold on his waist some. "I am now supported, you can do with me what you will."

 

"Do with you what I will…" Jefferson grumbled in mock frustration. "I'll show you what I will…" He kissed the inside of her arms, still fragrant from cake and the forest, and bracing her against his shoulders. Slid his hands down her legs and towards him as she shivered. Grabbing under her knees he pulled her legs apart and walked closer into her embrace.

 

Hope bit her lip in anticipation. She could feel him without actually feeling him. "Well?" She asked when he didn't move any closer.

 

"No hands. Takes some… patience and… concentration." He stopped even pretending to be focused on kissing her and looked down between them. "And coordination."

 

Finally, he brushed against her and then settled for a second before pushing inside. Hope latched her legs around him once more and held on tight, teeth in her lip to keep from crying out.

 

"There," Jefferson said with satisfaction. "Took enough. I say next time I just enter you and then pick you up and have my way with you against the wall."

 

"That would have been simpler, yes, but the build-up was a little exciting, wasn't it?"

 

"My love, the uncertainty of whether or not I'm going to be able to touch you at all is a day-to-day anticipation, and hardly exciting ," he said, punctuating the sentence with a thrust.

 

Hope whimpered, her eyes opening wide in alarm. "Oh dear, you may need to cover my mouth tonight."

 

He did eventually, though in reality it was pointless. The sound of their bodies meeting was loud enough to wake any but the most dead-asleep children. Fortunately for them, Grace was the deepest asleep that night. She didn't even stir when it was Jefferson who called out loudly in a surprising turn of events.

 

"Jefferson…" Hope's lip was nearly bleeding from her biting down on it. She felt her body stiffening, toes curling. He rocked harder into her at the sound of his name. "Jefferson, cover my mouth now," she strained out with the last of her rational clarity.

 

He clamped his hand down just in time, but didn't have the control to manage that _and_ keep himself quiet. He lurched at her ecstasy crumbling down around him, pinning her hard against the wall, and proceeded to groan out her name, then a string of only slightly quieter curses as he rode his own orgasm out. Dropping his hand from her mouth, Jefferson melted, only keeping them upright with the weight of his body angled onto the stairwell.

 

"Are you alright, husband?" Hope asked with a little giggle of delight at the new title. It was a serious question, however, she had been rather demanding that eve.

 

Jefferson leaned his head away from the wall and nodded. He was clearly exhausted, chest heaving as he worked to catch his breath. Hope fluttered her fingers over his back, feeling the way his breathing moved and tightened all its working parts.

 

"Well, if you are quite alright, I'd appreciate being let down off the wall. My hips are beginning to ache, you see, splayed out like this and supporting your weight." She rubbed the back of his neck and then tapped his bum to make her point.

 

"Thank…you!" She whispered as he unpinned her and stepped back, allowing Hope to drop to the ground and lithely pad away. "Come now, husband mine, to bed."

 

Jefferson either couldn't respond or didn't care to, slowly trudging up the stairs and flopping onto the bed beside her.

 

"Shorts!" She smacked him again on the bottom and he grumbled, grasping around in their trunk until he found a pair and then haphazardly pulled them up his legs.

 

"Did I wear you out?" Hope asked proudly.  
 

 

"Yes. Now, hush. You've bossed enough for tonight." In one last show of strength he lassoed her in his arms and pressed her face to his chest. "Sleep."

 

"Oh, I'll sleep, just one question first…"

 

"Ugh."

 

"Did you pick your shorts up downstairs?"

 

"No," he groaned, completely destroyed by the realization.

 

"That's alright," Hope chuckled, the rest of her response then swallowed by a yawn. "We'll… we'll get them before… you know…"

 

Hope awoke some hours later, disoriented. She had been in a very deep sleep. That much was made clear by the impressions of her facial features in Jefferson's chest. But then, for a less clear reason, very suddenly hadn't been. She blinked a few times, hoping her confusion would be clarified, but to no avail. Her head was still groggy and filled with dreamy fuzz and Jefferson was warm and draped around her. She would just go back to sleep.

 

A knock sounded somewhere echoing through the house. That was it. That was why she'd stirred. It was just after dawn. Normally, Hope would have already been awake but last night had been-- another knock. Whatever it was, it was persistent.

 

Hope tried wriggling free but, like a grass finger-trap, that only made Jefferson hold her tighter.

 

"No," he half-grunted, not even somewhat awake, just so used to her escaping that he had an unconscious response to it.

 

"Jefferson…" she whispered, trying to push his arm off of her. He was, even asleep, quite a bit stronger than her and she failed. "There's someone knocking at the door and your shorts are down there."

 

"To hell with them," he answered, grabbing her bottom. "Until the moment our daughter cries out, this morning, we are man and wife in bed." He ground home his point against her stomach.

 

The knock tapped again. Hope could almost hear the desperation in its rapid falls. She was tempted by his proposition, but that knock… that knock was worrying.

 

"Jefferson, what if it's important?"

 

"What if it's important that I pay you back for last night?" He was completely awake at this point, and feeling rambunctious. He rolled on top of her and just laid there. "Hmm? I think I'm allowed to be in charge some of the time."

 

"Yes, you very well are -- I like it when you are -- but right now you're crushing me and I can't concentrate with that knocking." Hope strained to push his chest off of her but then resorted to sneakier tactics, digging her fingers into his ribs.

 

Jefferson jumped away with a giggle. "Oh! Foul play!"

 

"That's right." Hope rolled out from under him and onto the floor, to the sound of another round of knocks. "As though lying on top of me wasn't. And that's why." She pointed as the knocks came again.

 

Jefferson frowned, tilting his head to the side. He really did look delectable that morning, hair fluffed up, a bit of stubble on his cheeks, her scratch marks on his arms and shoulders. But she needed to know what was going on with the knocking. Apparently, his curiosity was egging him on too, as Jefferson followed her down the stairs, snatching up his shorts from the sitting room floor.

 

"Are you going to answer the door in your shift?" He asked, trying to peer out the window at the knocker.

 

"Are you going to answer it in just your shorts?"

 

He glanced down and shrugged. "They should know they're interrupting things, important things." He smirked defiantly at her and then swung open the door. His swagger dropped immediately.

 

"Oh. Hello…"

 

Hope glanced in wonder between the three individuals on their doorstep. One of these three was not like the others. It wasn't the one who was waving shyly.

 

"Hi, hello. Sorry for bothering you, um…" The girl gave Hope a small smile as she continued waving. Despite being extravagantly dressed she carried herself without assumption. That and she was determinedly not looking at Jefferson again, not after the shock of him answering the door.

 

"Go on. They're waiting." The enormous, burly youth beside her nodded, rolling his eyes.

 

"I'm sorry," Jefferson interrupted and pointed at the third companion. "But, is that a snowman?"


	9. The Shadows' Claws

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jefferson's made to eat his own words, and in none so good a way.

Jefferson had had to ask it. It was just so obviously the thing to address first.

 

"Is that a strange question? You open your front door and there's a snowman smiling up at you, the first thing you ask is, is that a snowman, right? Especially in April."

 

The big guy shrugged. "Seems reasonable."

 

Jefferson looked at the rest of his guests and then Hope. His wife was flabbergasted, caught somewhere in between 'hello, do come in,' and 'what the hell?' The princess -- because with that garb she was certainly royalty -- grinned politely like he'd made a mediocre joke and the burly fellow just seemed over the whole business. The snowman was still grinning. It was freaking him out.

 

"I'm Olaf," it announced with such genuine excitement that Jefferson almost wasn't freaked out by it. But then again, it was an animate, talking pile of snow and sticks.

 

"Yeah… maybe it's best if we introduce ourselves first." The sasquatch stepped forward. "I'm Kristoff, this is Princess Anna, and the seasonal sculpture that's making you question your sanity, that's Olaf like he said."

 

"Yes, yes, of course," Hope had shaken off her shocked stupor, "I'm Hope and this is my husband, Jefferson. Please… please, do come in. I apologize for the state of things, it was our daughter's birthday yesterday… we had a long day."

 

Jefferson raised his brow at Hope but stepped aside as well to let their guests in.

 

"Thanks, thank you so much, really, for letting us in. Sorry about the time and all the knocking… I know it's early and when a person doesn't answer their door it's probably for a good reason, it's just that I'm a little desperate -- does that sound bad? -- but, in any case, it's true, I'm a little desperate and we've traveled a long way, I mean a _long_ way and the old woman said this was the only place that could help us, you are the Jefferson with the magic hat, right? The old woman said different worlds are really our last chance, we've looked everywhere else, literally, everywhere else--"

 

"And… that's enough." Kristoff put a hand over the princess's mouth and gave them a knowing grin.

 

"Wow…" Hope blinked at her. "Wow, that was…"

 

"A lot of information at once," Jefferson finished for her.

 

"Yeah, that happens." Kristoff removed his hand and Anna grinned.

 

"Sorry. Too much?"

 

"Too much," he assured her.

 

Jefferson and Hope just looked at one another. What had they gotten into by letting these two into their house? Two? Jefferson turned, looking around for the creepy snowman. It was holding up one of Grace's drawings from the table from several days ago, contemplating it with rapt concentration.

 

 _"Wow…_ what a _great_ frog. I wish I could draw."

 

"Olaf," Kristoff snapped his fingers and pointed between he and Anna.

 

"Yes, Olaf, we don't touch other people's things without asking."

 

"It's a wonderful home," the snowman commented, waddling back to his companions. "So warm and inviting."

 

"Thank… you?" Hope took a deep breath and then directed herself towards Anna. "So, let me just… get this straight. You're looking for help from Jefferson via his hat?"

 

They all nodded and Hope continued.

 

"Right, so you need to travel to another world because you're looking for… something?"

 

Anna shook her head and went to respond but Kristoff stopped her again.

 

"Someone. Alright. You think someone has been taken to another world and you want to portal jump to retrieve them. You think it must be another world because you've already looked everywhere in ours. Do you know which world?"

 

"How many worlds are there?" The princess's smile faltered as she looked between Jefferson and Hope. "Are--are there a lot?"

 

"Hundreds," Jefferson replied, already weary with where this was going.

 

Kristoff and Anna looked at each other and Jefferson recognized the exchange, she was going to ask for something insane and he was going to resist it but only barely, trudging along behind everywhere she went. They actually surprised him.

 

"The old hag said it might be one world in particular," Kristoff ended up saying, prompting Anna to explain.

 

"Yes, that's right! She said that it might be the one to do with waking and sleeping… something like that, nightland? No, oh, Kristoff which was it?"

 

"Dreamland."

 

Jefferson scoffed, "people don't get kidnapped into Dreamland. Those people are barely awake enough to feed themselves much less plot realm-crossing crime."

 

"That's just what she said."

 

"And… if I might ask, who was this old hag you spoke to?" Hope was always good at the sensible side of things.

 

"Oh, she wasn't a hag--"

 

"She was a hag. Hideous. Big nose, warts. The works."

 

Anna shrugged, "alright, she needed some cosmetic help, but she was very helpful. Told us if Elsa wasn't here, in this land anywhere and she disappeared at night that she might have been dream-napped and fallen into Dreamland."

 

"That is an -- _aptly named_ \-- old wives tale," Jefferson crossed his arms and caught Kristoff closing his eyes as if he'd heard it all before. "People don't disappear without someone doing the disappearing, and not across worlds, at least not that I know of and I'm pretty well-traveled."

 

"Well, Jefferson," Hope had that tone on, the one where she was going to push until he caved because she thought it was morally the right thing to do. "Maybe we should hear this out. Stranger things have happened." Her eyes were following the snowman as it meandered in front of her book shelves.

 

"You'll help!?!"

 

Jefferson steeled himself for it, for Hope's matronly response.

 

"Well, Anna, isn't it? Anna, we'll talk about it." He relaxed, but she wasn't done yet. "Just, if you don't mind, excuse us for a second so we can get a little more decent and wake our daughter. Then we'll discuss our terms."

 

Jefferson sighed loudly, noticed Kristoff snort at him, as he turned to follow Hope up the stairs.

 

"We agreed. We're finished." Jefferson threw his other pair of shorts onto the floor and shut their bedroom door. "And this sounds like a wild goose chase. Dreamland? Missing person? Uh-uh. Something feels off about this. And who is this old hag? Very few people know extensive information about the other worlds."  
 

Hope frowned as she pulled her petticoat on. "I thought you said the dream-napping was an old wives' tale."

 

"It is, but it never included the name of the realm the kidnapped ended up in."

 

"Oh, well that's fairly easy to assume from the very process. Get kidnapped while your dreaming? Where'd you go? Dreamland. Easy logical progression there."

 

Jefferson sighed again. "I don't want to."

 

"I know you don't want to, but the least we can do is hear them out. Like the girl said, they've traveled a long way and she's desperate. I don't like leaving other people desperate, Jefferson, not when I know there is something I can do."

 

"I know," he grumbled, fastening his trousers and tucking his shirt in. "You and your moral compass."

 

"Mmm. Besides, I'm really curious to know what in the world can animate a snowman and keep him from melting in this weather."

 

"I'm not. I just want the thing out of my house. It weirds me out." Jefferson was dressed first, so he volunteered to gather up Grace. She was actually awake when he crept into her room, playing with her Mr. Tortoise.

 

"Papa, are there people in the house?"

 

"Yes, there are, darling. They're here for help. We're going to have a chat with them, Mama and I, and I need you to draw quietly. Can you do that?"

 

She nodded. "If Mr. Tortoise can draw with me."

 

"He can, of course. Now, there's one thing, a little thing, I need you to not be frightened when we get downstairs. They're not going to hurt you. Okay?"

 

"Yes, Papa."

 

"Good girl." He scooped her out of her bed, clinging to her toy and headed for the door. Hope met him in the hallway.

 

"D'you prep her on the snowman?" She asked under her breath.

 

"As best I could. How do I warn a five year old about something she may have very well dreamed up herself?"

 

Hope just shrugged. It turned out that no warning was necessary. Grace was absolutely enamored with the thing as soon as she saw it.

 

"PAPA! A snowman! Inside!" She tugged on his sleeve and then wrenched free of his hand to dart towards it.

 

"Hello! I'm Olaf!"

 

Grace shrieked with delight and tackled it. "It's alive!"

 

Jefferson didn't like it, but the snowman did a damn good job keeping Grace distracted while the rest of them talked. As he peered over the couch to watch the two of them, Kristoff sat down next to him and nodded.

 

"I know, it takes some getting used to."

 

"You got used to it?"

 

"Eh, Olaf's charming in his own way. He grows on you in the very least." He reached out his hand to Jefferson. "Anyways, thanks for hearing us out. Seriously, most people would have sent us away on sight. I appreciate it."

 

Jefferson took his hand and shrugged. "Not our nature, I suppose. We don't have much room to judge anyhow." He jerked his chin towards Hope as she chatted with Anna over the tea kettle. "She's from another world and… when she first got here she was pretty _unique."_

 

Kristoff nodded and the two of them sat in silence for about five minutes. Finally, he spoke up again.

 

"You make hats?"

 

Jefferson nodded.

 

"You make money doing that?"

 

"Here and there. You? Lumberjack?"

 

Kristoff snorted. "No, ice harvest."

 

Jefferson barked out a surprised laugh. "Sorry. Uh… how's that fare for you?"

 

"Not great. Not great. Winter's always hard."

 

"I'd imagine. Where are you all from, anyways, with ice harvesting and living snowmen?"

 

"Cold place, up in the mountains."

 

"Ah. And you harvest _ice…_ alright. How'd you end up with a princess?"

 

That got the big guy to react. "Me? Anna? Together? No. No, no, no, well, a little. It's… something."

 

"Ah, I see. Completely clear to me now."

 

"No, uh… we met when she needed some help. I helped, she kept me around."

 

"And the snowman?"

 

"Oh, we ran into him on the way and couldn't shake him off. Thank you." He bobbed his head at Hope as she handed him and Jefferson cups.

 

"Alright, everyone's got tea and a bit of food. Now we can talk." Hope sat propped on the arm of Jefferson's chair. "Go ahead, Anna. Fill us in."

 

Anna told a sad tale, a very long, very rapidly delivered tale, but a sad one. It was her sister who was taken, the Queen of their realm, and she'd meant it when she'd said they'd been everywhere looking for her. Apparently, at first, they thought she'd run off because she was known for doing that at least on one other occasion, but then Anna found that she'd left something somewhere in some way that she definitely wouldn't have done. He couldn't really keep up with her the whole way through. The point was that they figured she was taken. They'd then decided that it had been at night, because she'd been there at dinner and not at breakfast etc. etc. and then they started their search. They'd traveled from their realm, Arendelle, to Midas's, to the far East, to the village conglomerates of the South to the central kingdoms and finally to the palace of Rumpelstiltskin and Regina's lands as a last resort. Nowhere and no one was of any help. Rumpelstiltskin had only opened the door and told them to go elsewhere, he couldn't help. Then they'd found this hag in one of the villages around here and been directed to Jefferson.

 

"I don't know this hag. I find it strange that she knows me. I'm not a big name, I keep my trade exclusive, almost a secret." Hope touched his shoulder and he quieted.

 

"Well, I don't know how she knew, but she was right! You're here and you can leave this world magically. Is there any way you can take me to look for Elsa?"

 

Jefferson drew a deep breath. He knew what Hope was staring at him so hard about. This was about family. If they had lost one another, or unthinkably, Grace, they'd want someone to help them. He looked at Anna, her eyes big and hopeful, then to Kristoff, not as expectant but definitely waiting, and then finally to Hope. She smiled softly and nodded.

 

"I can help."

 

The whole room sighed in relief.

 

"But… but, I won't be bringing you along, sorry. Traveling is dangerous enough as it is across worlds, I don't do it with just anyone, decent though they may seem. I will go to Dreamland, but that's it. If she's not there, if no one mentions having seen her, I'm done. There's no way I'm hopping all the worlds to look; that's like a needle in a haystack. It's a needle in a haystack as it is. I'm retired, anyway."

 

"Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!"

 

Jefferson was shaken from his chair basically by Anna bouncing with his hand in hers.

 

"Thank you so, so, so much!"

 

"Yes, yes. Okay, now. You're welcome." He freed his hand and straightened his clothing. "There's more, though. You'll need to stay in the village while we're gone. There's an inn, you can wait there. My wife, Hope will be coming with me, but we can't bring our daughter. She's too young. We'll be leaving her with someone. I don't know you, I don't know your motives, so don't be offended by this. If we come back, and something's happened to Grace and you're gone, or even _look_ guilty, I will make you regret it. Do you understand?"

 

The two of them nodded silently.

 

"Okay. Fine. Now, I need a description. A picture would be best, so I can show it to others when we're looking."

 

Anna reached into a little cloth bag and fished around for a second. "No, no, no. That's not it…" she tossed some baubles, a candle and a carrot onto the floor. "Oh, here's some silver. Beforehand pay. People's do that right?" She placed an enormous bag of silver in Jefferson's hand. "No. I don't have it. Do you, Kristoff?"

 

He rifled through his own satchel, pulled out a scroll. "Here. She's about Anna's height and build. Answers to Elsa."

 

Jefferson shook his head at his dry humor and accepted the painting from Kristoff. "Well, she'll be easy to spot. Her hair always that light?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Alright. Clothes she was last seen in?"

 

"Blue gown."

 

Jefferson stood and everyone followed. "Got it. We'll head out as soon as we get Grace stowed away. Expect us sometime this evening. It won't be a long wait."

 

Hope escorted their guests to the door, grabbing Grace's hand as she tried to follow the snowman out.

 

"Olaf?"

 

"Bye, Grace!"

 

Grace's lip trembled as they stepped out onto the porch, escalated into full on wails when Hope closed the door. It was going to be hard getting her to Geraldine's.

 

"What are we doing, Hope?" Jefferson felt weary, his feet and legs heavy.

 

"We're helping a nice young lady find her older sister. It'll be quick and easy for us and may very well save a young woman's life, reunite a family. We're doing the right thing."

 

"I don't like it."

 

"So you've said. Now, will you fetch Grace's travel bag while I try and quiet her. We're already asking a big favor of Geraldine, we don't need to bring her a screaming Grace."

 

As the two of them were stepping off of the Porters' porch something uncomfortable passed over Jefferson, a little echo of their last trip. That spastic Jack Frost and his adamancy about not missing a minute. He stopped Hope by the wrist.

 

"Are we sure about this, Hope?" He glanced over his shoulder at little Grace waving him goodbye from Geraldine's arms. "Maybe we shouldn't leave her. Don't want miss it…"

 

Hope sighed and brushed her knuckles over his jaw. "We promised that girl, Jefferson. It would destroy her."

 

He sucked on his lip and then turned around, marching back to Grace. Hope followed tutting. He scooped up his little girl and held her to his chest again.

 

"Papa will be right back, Grace. Do you hear me?"

 

"Yes, Papa."

 

"Mama, too," Hope kissed Grace's forehead and then took her from Jefferson, handed her back to Geraldine. "We'll be back before you know it." She dragged him along behind her, hand threaded with his. "Come now, Jefferson. No point in delaying."

 

They decided to open the portal in the forest this time so they could go straight to the inn with news. Inside the hat, Jefferson hesitated again. The pink door was right there, as innocuous as ever but he had a tugging in his chest. He didn't want to go in there. Something was warning him off it.

 

"Oh, this looks perfectly charming," Hope commented, coming to stand beside him in front of it. "I can't believe you haven't taken me here."

 

"I can. It's not worth going. They just sleep and cast sleep and fashion dreams. It's very boring." But there was more. If only he could remember what it was, something about sleep being not as harmless as it seemed, being closer to death. The thought made him shudder. "I bet she's not here."

 

"No, well, won't know until we look, will we?"

 

"No, I suppose not. Just… stay close to me."

 

Hope rolled her eyes as if he were being melodramatic. "Very well, husband."

 

Dreamland really was a fuzzy, sleepy, innocuous sort of world. His wariness seemed unwarranted as soon as they stepped through its door.

 

"Sand?" Hope asked, yawning.

 

"Yes, the whole world's covered in it. It's everywhere." He shifted his weight to the other foot and shook the sand out of his right boot. "Ugh. I don't like this place. Come on, let's get this over with."

 

The first village was a complete bust, as expected. Half of its inhabitants Jefferson couldn't even rouse long enough to ask them the one question he had. The ones who were awake only sleepily blinked at the picture and shook their heads. No, they hadn't seen the Queen, hadn't been making her dreams lately either.

 

That was an ominous note, but Jefferson shoved that aside. This world was so unpredictable, sometimes they slept through work orders for whole weeks. What was worse, the ambiance of the place seemed to be wearing off on Hope. She was constantly yawning. At one point, he had to shake her awake.

 

"Are you alright?"

 

"Yes," she had rubbed her eyes and then smiled to confirm. "Yes, I'm fine. Just sleepy. The place lives up to its name."

 

Yes, but Jefferson wasn't tired. That worried him, but again he put a pin in it. On to the next village. It was just the same as the last and soon he and Hope were plodding back to the portal.

 

"I've had enough of this. I'm not slogging through sand for miles and miles just to find out that, hey, the people here haven't seen anything, just like the last damn village."

 

"Jefferson…" Hope warned, a fight with her tone.

 

"No. I'll use the portal. We'll inner-world jump like Jack Frost mentioned."

 

Hope pursed her lips. "I thought you said your hat didn't work like that, not on this side. I specifically remember asking you about it afterwards."

 

"Well, I'll make it work." He sighed and placed his hand on the door frame, concentrating on the next town. It took a minute or so but the door eventually dissolved into an open portal looking into that village. Jefferson smiled and waved towards it. "See? After you."

 

No one had seen her in that town either, nor the next one, nor the next one. Jefferson was becoming impatient. He stomped back to the door empty-handed with Hope in tow, blowing sand out of his mouth.

 

"Damn sand. It's everywhere."

 

"Jefferson? Are you alright? You seem… tense."

 

"I'm just frustrated, sorry." He turned and smiled down at her. "See? Fine. Four more and then we can call this thing a bust." He cupped her face and planted a soft kiss on her lips. "And then, home to Grace. We'll give the princess back her money and that'll be the end of it."

 

"Alright…" Hope let out a big yawn. "If you say so."

 

Jefferson nodded and reached out for the door frame again. Just four more and he could go home. Home where there was no sand and Hope wasn't falling asleep on her feet and Grace was there. He kept thinking back to what Jack Frost said as he tried to change the portal. And then it hit him. It was the Cheshire Cat's eerie little rhyme that was in the back of his head. It was just nagging him for some reason.

 

Then he felt the door frame go cold beneath his hand. The door snapped shut and a sound that made his hair stand on end ripped through the air behind him. To the left of the door, where Hope was standing, sounded an empty hiss, like a bag unsealing. Jefferson's stomach dropped as he glanced behind him. It was a great black hole, a gaping portal devoid of light, just an archway of shadow with Hope's bright shape outlined before it. He tried to shout to her, tell her to get away, but she was asleep and she was falling, slowly though definitely steadily falling into the shadows. Jefferson lurched around to catch her but his feet were slow and clumsy, weighted into the soft sand of this world. He slipped. His body went off-kilter and, instead of lunging towards Hope, he tumbled backwards into the door. He passed through it like air and landed in the hat room with a quiet thump, the door snapping shut behind him. As he skidded to a stop, a shadow drifted past him, with long hair and skirts, breaking into wisps as he watched it.

 

For a split second he was rooted to the spot, in shock. The door shouldn't have shut behind him. Two in, two out. Hope had to come through with him. He scrambled to his feet and darted to the pink, innocuous door that had just betrayed him. It had all been very normal, Jefferson had looked through the towns and found nothing, then had fallen on his ass -- nothing strange in that -- but the portal was never liquid like that, the hat never broke its own rules, so where was Hope? Where was she?

 

"HOPE?!" He bellowed as he reached for the knob, but he didn't make it. The hat room started shaking, apparently rejecting the breaking of its rules. In an instant it had thrown him out, sent him sprawling across the forest floor.

 

"HOPE!?!" He spit out dirt and leaves and darted back to the hat. Where was she? He couldn't be there. Two in, two out. Two in, two out. How could he be there? "Hope?"

 

That shadow had made him feel cold, made his breath come quick and shallow. He had to get back to Dreamland. Had to get her. Had to find her. The hat acted normally, as if it hadn't just violently rejected him, and opened a portal into which Jefferson lunged. The door to Dreamland stood normal, opened normally, showed him normal sand and light pink sky. There was no archway of shadow. Nowhere. There was no trace of Hope either. Jefferson flew through the world in a fit. She had to be there. Had to.

 

When it forced itself upon him, the reality that Hope wasn't in Dreamland, that she must have passed into that aberrant portal, Jefferson almost lost control. He stormed back into the hat room all thunder and bluster and opened the very next door beside Dreamland's. She had to be somewhere. He would find her. He would cross all the worlds to find her.

 

Jefferson spent the next uncountable hours doing just that. He passed into every land, wore his feet to blisters, his mind to jelly searching everywhere for Hope. He even stuck his head into Atlantis. She couldn't have just vanished. People don't just _vanish_ and doors always lead someplace. That had definitely been a door. He was going to find her. When he finally stopped in front of the Looking Glass, Jefferson was shaking. This was the last one. She had to be in Wonderland. He'd found her there first, he would find her again. He had to.

 

It was almost nightfall in Wonderland when he stepped through. He didn't even stop to care, he barreled right in and started calling her name.  He didn't care that creatures were staring, that he somehow looked madder than them. He just kept on. She had to be there.

 

"Hope!" He plunged into the Tulgey Wood. She came here. She had to have. This was what she knew, her home. "HOPE!"

 

"She's not here, Hatter."

 

Jefferson, nerves frazzled, leapt aside from the smile curling up at him. The Cheshire Cat appeared around it, pacing around his feet.

 

"What? No. She has to be. Has to be. I've looked… she's here." Jefferson dodged around the cat and marched on.

 

"A shadow door, was it?"

 

That made Jefferson stop.

 

"I did warn you, Hatter, the shadows' claws and doors not even you can close."

 

Jefferson rounded on the cat, glared at it with all the intensity left in his body. "You knew this would happen?"

 

The Cat shrugged. "Well, obviously, elsewise I wouldn't have been able to warn you, would I--" It melted under Jefferson's fingertips as he swung at it.

 

"YOU KNEW?!? You knew and you didn't properly tell me?! Why--why couldn't you just say? In plain English?" He was spinning, shouting to the trees.

 

"And would you have believed me any more? I'm mad, remember?" It appeared again, floating far out of his reach, but only for a brief moment, flickering out while its grin was still speaking.

 

"Wait! Wait!" Jefferson could feel his focus and energy slipping away. That singular thing driving him on, that Hope was somewhere, was fading and his world was collapsing in around him. The rage was cooling, becoming heavy. "Where--where is she? Why did this happen?"

 

The cat reappeared at eye level, its wicked grin somehow softer. "The Shadowlands, Hatter. The line between dreams and death is very fine. Sometimes it blurs."

 

It was the plainest it had ever spoken to him and Jefferson somehow knew that it was out of pity. That frightened him even more than the enigmatic uncanniness it usually exuded.

 

"The… Shadowlands?" He set his resolve again. They sounded bad, but he could open a door even if he hadn't been there before. "Okay. Okay! I'll find them. In my hat. I'll find their door and I'll get her! I'll get her back!"

 

"Not even your hat can open that door. It only tickles the land. Unless you're a shadow, you're not going there, Hatter. Be _seeing_ you…" The Cheshire Cat disappeared then with a pop, not even leaving his grin behind to mock him.

 

Jefferson stared at where the cat had been.

 

No. He had to find her. He had to get to these Shadowlands. She couldn't just be gone.

 

He didn't remember walking back to the Looking Glass, but somehow he found himself staring into it some time later. Shadowlands? What did that mean? Who was he kidding? He knew what that meant, somewhere in him, he knew. Shadows, shades, ghosts and wraiths. They all meant the same thing, just different words in different realms. He stepped through and into the hat room, only barely making it onto the marble floor before breaking down.

 

His whole body shook. He wept and shouted and thrashed, all in vain. His rage, his hurt couldn't open that door. Hope. He'd lost her. He'd let her down. He shouldn't have taken the damn job, shouldn't have been in that world to begin with. No. That wasn't it. He shouldn't have been inner-world jumping. He knew that. His hat wasn't meant for that, he'd been cheating.

 

Jefferson went still, sat on his knees and stared at his hands. He had done this? He had caused that door to open? Only explanation. The cat. The cat said the Dreamland and Shadowlands' divide was very thin. If they were that close together, that scarcely divided, any disturbance of the realm border could create a tear between the two. His shoddy portals could have tickled it just enough.

 

He was on his feet before realizing it, at the Dreamland door in just as quick a blink. He would tickle it until it split again. Stepping through, Jefferson ignored the fact that he was exhausted, that his body ached, that he was more than shivering, he was quaking. He would find her. He would save her from this mess he made. He would. He had to.

 

"Come on, come on, come on." He gripped the doorframe like a vise, focused on different parts of the land, but it only turned those other places up in the portal. No shadow door.

 

He panted and stepped away, wiped his face. He would get this to work. He would find her and carry her home. He was not going to be a widower the day after getting married. No. He laid his hand on the doorframe again, thought back to what had been happening when the first shadow door had ripped open. He had been frustrated, he was frustrated now. He had wanted to go home, get out of the sand. Still true. He'd been trying to figure out what was bothering him, the Cheshire Cat's now completely lucid prophetic warning. Not to open doors he couldn't close. The doorframe shuddered and fell still, opening again on another part of the land.

 

Jefferson growled, kicked it hard. This had to work it, simply had to work. He needed Hope. He couldn't live without her. He couldn't be alone again. Not again. Their daughter needed her. Their daughter.

 

Grace.

 

He stumbled backwards. What time was it? What day was it? How long had he left Grace waiting? He'd lost her mother, he didn't need to leave her feeling abandoned. Abandoned. He shuddered, remembering the feeling. He couldn't do that. But he couldn't come back to her and tell her she didn't have her Mama any more. He couldn't do that to her. How? How would he explain that?

 

He started crying. Really, hopelessly crying, shoulders shaking, folded in on himself weeping.

 

"Jefferson."

 

The air dropped several degrees around him, but he didn't care. Nothing mattered at that point.

 

"Jefferson, you shouldn't be here." A hand lighted on his shoulder, cold and firm. "Your daughter needs you, now more than ever."

 

"I can't," he sobbed. "I can't--can't tell her--her--her mother's gone."

 

"It'll be hard, but she needs you with her all the same. She's scared, Jefferson. It's been two days."

 

"What?" He finally looked up, found Jack Frost kneeling beside him. "Two days?"

 

"You've been gone for two days. Your daughter's guardian is in a panic. She thinks you've been killed."

 

"She's half right." Jefferson sunk back into himself, only to lash out seconds later. "And because I did what you told me I could!"

 

Jack looked away. "I know. I'm sorry. I didn't realize how unstable your hat could be, didn't know that you'd ever come here. If I had I would have told you not to do it. Sleep and death are too close. You don't play with their boundaries."

 

He waited a few minutes as Jefferson broke down again, then he reached out his hand and picked him up. "There's nothing you can do here, but you can take care of things in your home."

 

"How?"

 

Frost tilted his head to the side, offered a consoling smile. "Gently but truthfully. Kids know more than you think. And maybe not immediately. Wait until _you_ have made some peace with it. I'm sorry, Jefferson." He laid his hand on Jefferson's shoulder and suddenly they were in the Enchanted Forest.

 

Or, Jefferson was. Alone. His hat wobbled weakly on its top a few yards away. He watched it until it came to a stop. Accursed thing. The morning light felt cold, looked bitterly bright. He took a moment to compose himself, to push the memories of this spot from his mind, of he and Hope there, falling in love, chasing their child. He felt sick. Sick and lightheaded and heavier than he could stand all at once. Everything hurt, his head, his feet, his eyes. All he wanted was to collapse into their--his bed and sleep forever. That wasn't true, though. He wasn't completely alone. His darling girl was there.

 

His feet were moving without him willing them. Their Grace. She was all that mattered now and she mattered more than anything ever had. _His_ Grace.

 

"Jefferson!" Geraldine had been panicking. That much was clear from the state of her dress, the exhaustion on her face. "Oh, you're here! Thank goodness. Where's Hope?"

 

She stepped back, horrified when Jefferson didn't respond. He didn't need to, it was written all over him, all over his two day absence. She covered a quiet sob with her hand and waved him inside.

 

"Mum? Who's-- oh." A young man, one of Geraldine's sons stepped out from a back room with Grace holding his hand, lost his hold on her as soon as she saw Jefferson.

 

"Papa! Papa, Papa, Papa!" She tackled him, held him tight, her fingers clasping on and not letting go.

 

Jefferson lifted her with him as he stood, holding onto her like she would slip between his fingers if he didn't. "My dear Grace."

 

"You came back!"

 

"Of course I did. I would never leave you. I won't leave you again."

  
She leaned back and pushed the hair off his forehead and kissed him where it'd been, her precious little bumping of her face against his forehead. Jefferson felt himself tearing up again, but he smiled at her anyway.

 

"Papa, why are you crying?"

 

"I missed you, Grace. I missed you."

 

"Where's Mama?"

 

Jefferson's chest buckled. He pulled her back onto his shoulder and held her there. "She's not here right now, baby."

 

Geraldine was crying in the kitchen, her son puttering around her trying to help. Jefferson envied her her freedom. He had had his chance to mourn in the open. Now it would have to be secret. He would have to be strong for Grace.

 

"Not here? Why?"

 

"Well…" he chose his words carefully. The last thing he wanted was for Grace to resent Hope for not coming back. "She can't be. Mama got lost."

 

"Lost?" Her little lip quivered. Jefferson should have waited, like Frost said.

 

"Yes, Gracie, lost. Papa tried to find her. He did. He looked everywhere. That's why he was gone for so long, but he couldn't find her." He was crying now. There was no way he could stop it.

 

"But she said she was coming back."

 

"And she meant it, too. Your Mama would never have left you if she could help it."

 

"She isn't coming back?"

 

"No," Jefferson's voice broke. "I'm sorry, darling."

 

"Mama!" Her little body twisted and fought against him, kicking and punching until he knelt down and let her go. She threw herself at the door and cried and screamed for her mother until she was worn out and sat huddled against it sobbing. Jefferson let her do it. This wasn't just a temper tantrum, this was her grief and so much for such a little person. So much that she didn't deserve. When she fell asleep, tear stains on her cheeks he picked her up and walked to the kitchen.

 

Geraldine was still sniffling but the whole house had sort of stopped to allow Grace her own moment of anger and fierce sadness. She offered Jefferson a cup of tea in quiet tones and pulled up a chair.

 

"What happened?" She asked after their tea had gone cold.

 

Jefferson shook his head. He couldn't talk about it. Not really.

 

"Is she--is she…" Geraldine couldn't even say the word.

 

"Yes," Jefferson said dully. He had to admit it at some point.

 

"Oh, Jefferson. I'm so sorry."

 

He nodded. There was still that stickling prickle of tears, the ache in his chest like he wanted to cry, to shout out, to turn the table over and tell her that her apology did nothing, but really more than anything he felt empty. The emptiness made him still. Eventually, he just stood and walked to the door. Geraldine let him go without a word. He picked his hat up off the front porch and trudged home with Grace over one shoulder.

 

The house was quiet when he got back. It disturbed him that everything looked the same, like a great big hole hadn't actually just been ripped in his life. He glared at the kitchen table and made a note to take it out and make timber out of it in the morning. If Grace hadn't been asleep in his arms he would have kicked it all over right then, made a mess to fit the one in his head.

 

He tucked her into bed with her Mock Turtle, the toy Hope had insisted on making so Grace would have a piece of her mother's world. Jefferson swallowed a sob, kissed their daughter's head gently instead. His bedroom wasn't empty, though, when he got in there. Nonetheless, he treated it as if it were.

 

"No scathing quip? Having an off day, hatter?"

 

Jefferson didn't even look at Rumpelstiltskin. "Go away," he said quietly and kicked off his boots.

 

"That's no way to treat guests. I was just here, a-waiting for you to return so I could remind you, as a favor, that the cloaking spell was up three days ago so not to do anything foolish."

 

Jefferson laid down on his bed, buried his head in Hope's pillow. It still smelled faintly of her.

 

"But, I can see now that you've already done that foolish thing. Where's your feisty woman?"

 

"Go away, imp," Jefferson growled, not about to allow him to rub salt in his wounds.

 

"Tut, tut, tut. She didn't make it back did she? And I thought you'd retired! Oh dear, dearie."

 

"Get out. Now."

 

"Just one question first, what happened?"

 

Jefferson pinched shut his eyes but that didn't stop the image from haunting him, the one that had popped up every time he hadn't been focused on actually doing something, the way Hope's face, so calm and still, just slipped away from him back into darkness.

 

"She got lost," he finally grumbled.

 

"Ah, such a shame. Those shadow doors are so bamboozling."

 

If he wasn't already tapped dry Jefferson would have lashed out at the imp for knowing and not telling, like the Cheshire Cat. It was too late for that, though.

 

"As I see it, if you had kept up our contract, this wouldn't have happened. Independent jobs are so unpredictable. But tell me, how did you get back? Two in, two out!"

 

"I fell through into the hat as she fell into the shadow door. I don't know, the hat was confused, I guess."

 

"Oh-ho! I'm no expert in the matters as you are, but it seems to me… that that door was your own. Otherwise the hat wouldn't have counted her as stepping in and you would have been trapped in that other world. Yes?"

 

"Yes," Jefferson admitted, his heart hollowed out and too tired to fight the truth.

 

"So, you can open portals to the other lands, the blocked lands."

 

"No. That was a freak accident. Trust me, I tried to do it again. Now, go away, Rumpelstiltskin."

 

"Yes, yes, and allow you to drown in your self-loathing and guilt!" The imp giggled. "Very well, enjoy your retirement, hatter!"


	10. Hanging up the Hat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jefferson and Grace are left to pick up the pieces of their family and move on as best they can.

Jefferson didn't get out his bed until well after noon the next day. He'd slept but not well. Every dream was the same, Hope falling and landing beside him briefly in the hat room, but as a shadow. It haunted him, seeped away his willpower. The sunlight looked alternatively bleak and glaring, the bird song was piercing and then bitter-sweet. Everything made him think of her. He would have stayed, face in her pillow, taking in the last of her in this world, wallowing in bed if it hadn't been for Grace. About an hour after he woke up and couldn't go back to sleep, he heard the gentle sounds of her crying.

 

She needed him.

 

He freed himself from the bedclothes and made his way into her room. She was snuggled up against Mr. Tortoise, crying violently into his belly.

 

"I know. I know, my dear Grace," Jefferson muttered softly as he scooped her up. She folded around him, fingers twisting in his hair and collar. They cried together there on her bed until Grace was hiccupping and Jefferson's eyes ached again.

 

"I miss Mama," Grace whispered. "I want her to come back."

 

"I do, too. I do, too."

 

"I hurt… here." She laid her hand across Jefferson's chest, right over his heart. He took her little hand in his and squeezed it.

 

"Me too, Grace. I'm sorry." He found it almost difficult to look at her. With her big brown eyes glistening with tears and her lips pouting in a tiny heart-shape she looked so much like her mother. Her stomach rumbled as they sat there and Jefferson winced. "Why didn't you come tell me you were hungry, baby?"

 

"I'm not," she replied firmly and twisted away with Mr. Tortoise.

 

"Yes. You are. Come on. I'll fix you something."

 

"Mama makes breakfast."

 

It was like a gut punch. Jefferson staggered as he stood. "I know, Grace, but Papa can, too. I'll make you porridge."

 

"No." Grace turned away from him. "I don't want porridge."

 

Jefferson understood what Grace was doing. It still hurt him. She wanted her mother, she wanted things as they were with Hope making their morning porridge, sneaking that dash of sugar on top, not Jefferson pretending he could make it just the same.

 

"Okay, Grace. Papa will make something else. I'll make you oat cakes."

 

She didn't respond but Grace seemed to assent, slipping out of bed and dragging Mr. Tortoise with her. She even grabbed his hand as she passed. "Okay, but I wanna help."

 

In spite of everything, Jefferson laughed. She didn't trust him to cook, insisted on helping. "Very well, Grace."

 

Jefferson spent all his energy and attention on Grace that day. As long as he kept himself focused on making her happy, he didn't feel like his heart had been torn from his chest. Grace hadn't just forgotten that she was missing her mother, but somehow -- either because she was wise beyond her years or she sensed the benefit -- she kept from straying into thoughts of Hope, didn't ask any more questions. The oat cakes weren't a complete disaster, but they weren't great and lunchtime was a similar struggle. He'd been helping for years, a little something here, a hand there, but hadn't done a whole meal since he'd brought Hope to the Enchanted Forest. His skills were rusty.

 

They made it through though, and dinner was fairly decent. That was how they gauged the day, meal to meal. Jefferson didn't do anything useful, just sort of puttered around behind Grace as she kept occupied. Eventually, though he was brought back to reality when he found the pouch of silver. Their clients. _His_ clients. He needed to return this and report back to them so they could move on with their grief as well.

 

He changed clothes, got Grace changed too and then set out for the inn. The little group was surprisingly still there, were ecstatic to see him and then promptly subdued.

 

Jefferson walked up to their table and merely set the pouch down before turning away.

 

"Wait!" Anna hopped up and ran around in front of him. "You… you didn't find her?"

 

"No. Sorry. She wasn't there."

 

"What? Why were you gone so long--"

 

"Anna," Kristoff shook his head and led her back to the table. "Leave it."

 

And she did. They allowed Jefferson to walk away with Grace in silence, except for that confounding snowman. He waved and said goodbye to Grace. She ignored him.

 

"They are the reason you and Mama went away."

 

Jefferson drew a deep breath. "We were helping them, yes."

 

"I hate them," Grace sounded like she was on the edge of tears again.

 

Jefferson stopped, kneeling down and pulling her in front of him. "They're not to blame, Grace. They were only looking for someone they lost, too."

 

"But it's their fault!"

 

"Shh, no, no, no. It's not." He wanted to say that is was his fault, but he couldn't bring himself to it. So, he just smoothed her hair and rubbed her back until she stopped crying. "Come on. We've got a bedtime to see to."

 

The next day went a little more smoothly. He woke shouting, but after that he made edible oat cakes on the first go, chopped wood and watched Grace at the same time, made lunch and helped her with some games. Dinner went fine as well and before he knew it he was alone in his bed again. That was the worst, being alone in that big bed. Sometimes when he'd only half wake in the night, he'd roll over looking for Hope, just to find her still gone. Then he'd collapse in on himself, drowning in another miserable dream in time.

 

For the first few weeks, the two of them avoided things that Hope had done like the plague. No porridge, no reading, no forest time. They made do with their own things that they'd done together. In time, though, Jefferson found himself making tea for comfort, itching to return to the forest for little whispers of Hope. Grace followed him like a puppy. After the initial reaction against him, the distrust and tiny anger, she'd latched on and not let go. They needed each other. So, when he took her hand, put her little cloak on and led her into the forest she followed willingly.

 

It was a good thing, too, because soon the forest was the only thing keeping them fed. Without Hope's apothecary sales, they simply couldn't afford going to market. No one wanted hats or clothes from the man whose new wife had mysteriously disappeared. Deep in the winter, Jefferson sat Grace down and told her they would have to leave. They couldn't survive there. Packing a few things -- Hope's tea set, her herbalist guide and magic map, a few hats and all of Grace's clothes and toys, the books -- Jefferson put it all in a wagon and then sold the house and the rest of the lot to Mr. Porter for a steal. He needed rid of it anyway, it was too much.

 

They rode through the snow in the wagon deep into the forest until they were many villages away from their own. He'd found this small house in the outskirts of a market town, purchased it for basically nothing. It was two rooms, it would do. He put Grace inside and unloaded the remainder of their life into this little house. The hat he kept, locked away in its chest, hidden. He didn't want to look at it, to think about it.

 

The place wasn't much, but they could make it there, they could survive and try to move on. Jefferson still had nightmares, but he learned to control them. He had to with little Grace sleeping not three feet away. Two beds, one room. They made it work. As the nightmares lessened, as his every thought that centered on Hope stopped being only fear and heartbreak he began to smile more. He could think about her tone of voice echoing in his daughter's without wincing, about how she would react to the two of them living off the forest with fondness. It still hurt when he woke and she wasn't beside him, but now more out of want than out of grief. He missed her, missed her in every way imaginable. The worst, however, was when he needed to make a decision for himself and Grace and he just wasn't sure if it was right. She'd been his crutch for so long, it pained him to struggle through tough choices on his own.

 

When he was faced with an offer to go work afield and leave Grace for a few weeks, he anguished over it. They needed money, needed it desperately. They could sell their gatherings from the forest, but it was never enough to buy everything that they needed, that Grace needed. And she needed a lot. She was getting big, needed new clothes that fit, better winter cloaks in this less well insulated house, new shoes. But, at the same time, she needed him there. A little voice in the back of his head that sounded suspiciously like Hope's whispered that she needed him more, that he could repurpose Hope's clothes for Grace. And that's what he did. As time passed, he began just milling over what Hope would say. He found he remembered her well, she could still be his conscience.

 

With those kinds of things figured out, Jefferson and Grace fell neatly into their new life. The forest was fun again, he taught their daughter what Hope had taught him. Grace fondly recalled her mother's words on occasion and cherished the little things like a fresh flower or a secret grove of berries. She started having tea parties with her toys, insisting that she make it like her mama did. She started reading to Jefferson instead of the other way around. He moved her on to other things, bigger ideas like math and the history of their world. She was growing up.

 

"Papa," she asked one day as he trimmed her hair. "Why is it you don't cut your hair anymore?"

 

"Well, I don't have anyone to cut it for me, do I?" He brushed the trimmings from her dress and patted her back. "Off you go."

 

"Mama wouldn't like it," she said smartly and then scampered off.

 

Jefferson pushed his hair to the side of his forehead. Maybe not. Definitely not, but he was allowed this one sign of mourning. He didn't want anyone else cutting his hair.

 

"Okay, Grace. Are you all set with your tea?"

 

She sat down at her little table, her Tortoise and battered old kitty sitting by. "Aren't you coming, Papa?"

 

"No, I've got to finish mending up your cloak before it gets too cold outside."

 

She stood up and skipped over. "I want to help."

 

"Oh, you do? Well, then, here. Take this thread here," he handed her the delicate string he'd been twisting, "and put this thimble on so you don't stick yourself. Careful. The needle's sharp. Now pass it through the little hole, good…"

 

Grace followed directions beautifully, threading the needle quickly and waiting for him to tie its knot. In a few more minutes she was sewing buttons. Jefferson sat back, a little astounded. It seemed like only days before she'd been misbuttoning her dresses, now she was sewing the buttons on. Three years it had been already since they'd moved. Grace was nearly nine years old.

 

That made him feel old. Old and very alone. Whereas before he'd found himself floundering, though, wondering how he'd make it with just this little person who was relying on himself entirely, now he wasn't worried. She was turning out fine. So much of Hope was in her innately she sounded like her constantly without even trying, without properly remembering as Jefferson suspected. There were moments when Grace clearly recalled something specific of her mother, like the haircut comment, but a great deal of the time he felt like she operated without thinking about her. Or, if she did, Grace kept it quiet.

 

As he let Grace outside to chase the last of the year's butterflies, Jefferson did something he only allowed himself on rare occasion. He talked to Hope. Since they'd moved he'd started saying things to her before bed, holding her father's ring to his lips and reciting certain words like a prayer. How he missed her and loved her and was so, so sorry. In time, though, that little chant became less penitent and more conversational. He'd tell her about things, what Grace had done that day that seemed so like her, or what he really needed help with, just aching to have someone to confide in again. His worries crept in sometimes, admissions of how he felt he was failing their daughter, how some days he considered unlocking the hat for some gold, how he'd considered stealing.

 

Today, though, it was happier.

 

"Hope, you should have seen her today, Hope. She sewed her first button. Her first five buttons, actually. And, you know, they were really good. She has a hand for things. She also picked up one of your books yesterday, the big one with the orange leather cover. She read about a chapter of it to me while I was peeling potatoes. It was incredible. She's so smart, like you. I got her another teacup. She wanted a full set. It put us back some coppers but she was so happy."

 

He paused, waving to Grace as she grinned over at him with a butterfly in her hair.

 

"You'd be so proud. I miss you, Hope. I love you. I'm so, so sorry. I'll see you soon."

 

That winter was hard. The ground froze for too long, killed almost everything green. Jefferson had to sell some things that held never considered parting with not even when they were moving: Hope's hat, his dress coat she'd insisted he keep, two of her books. It broke his heart but they just barely made it by on that. The next year was long, wore him thin. Mushrooms were the only things keeping them afloat and just barely. But Grace was happy, so Jefferson was happy. Some neighbors had moved in during the melting season and Grace had suddenly had new people to engage with and she flourished with that. They were kind, Holly and James, good, hardworking people without kids of their own. They fawned over Grace and that gave Jefferson an opportunity to, when he wanted it which was rare, be alone.

 

He appreciated the morning or afternoon here or there when he could stop being strong, be sad without hiding it from her. There was so much that he wanted to give her, the world, a better life, her mother, that at times it weighed him down. And he wanted to give Grace her mother, not _a_ mother like some nosy townsfolk would randomly suggest. There were moments, sure, when being alone pained him, when he awoke yearning, but he was always yearning for Hope. He couldn't even consider someone else, never quite allowed himself to accept, to say that she was dead. Only lost. That held him back, but he could deal with that, Grace would be happier with that. The last thing she needed was some stepmother.

 

He was better off alone.

 

"Papa! Papa!"

 

He jerked awake one of those mornings with Grace shaking his shoulder. He checked to make sure everything was covered and then relaxed.

 

"Yes, Grace?"

 

"It's morning. The rain's stopped, can we go outside and play?" She was a bundle of energy in the mornings, just like Hope.

 

"Absolutely. Just give me a few minutes to wake up and get dressed, okay? You go get the wood and--"

 

"I already did, Papa. And I made porridge."

 

Jefferson chuckled. "Quite accomplished already this morning, are we?"

 

"Yes! Now, wake up, Papa! The birds are awake, so you should be too!"

 

He took a deep breath and smiled through the memory echoing around her words. So much like her mother. "Alright, I'm awake. We can have our day in the woods."

 

The game that day was hide and seek, which worked out well because Jefferson could spot the fresh mushrooms springing up after the long rain as he hid. It was a good game, and Grace loved it, but the next day was market day in town and they desperately needed to bring in some money so he could get to the fruit stand, buy them some berries and such to dry for the long winter ahead. So he had to stop, had to get her to help him collect mushrooms. She was good at it, though, and light-spirited about it, and when they walked home later that afternoon it felt like they'd had a good day together.

 

Of course, something was waiting to spoil it, and not just anything, but Regina. Grace recognized the carriage, unfortunately, so Jefferson had to lie to her, tell her he didn't know the Queen, just as he had on several occasions throughout the years, lying about why he ran from the royal insignia. He'd sent her to the woods to hide and had his conversation with Regina.

 

The whole thing made his chest ache. She infuriated him, despite not knowing about most of the things he hated her for. Her audacity in suggesting he wasn't doing the best for Grace made him want to spit. Wonderland. And of all places, she wanted to go to Wonderland. No. No way was he going back there, too unpleasant, too many painful memories and none of that weakness he wanted to share with the Evil Queen. No, he'd sent her on her way empty handed. Not the hat, not for her, not to that place. He and Grace would make do together, without the Queen, without being apart. He would not abandon his family, not again.

 

"What did she want?" Grace asked when Jefferson found her in her favorite hollowed out tree stump.

 

"Nothing that you need to worry about, my dear Grace." He held out his hand and helped her climb out. "Come on now, I put some stew over the fire."

 

Despite all the bile and fire he felt against Regina, Jefferson found himself thinking about the offer in bed that night. He could give Grace a better life than this, better than re-purposed clothing and mushroom broth that he called a stew. He looked over at her, sleeping happily with Mr. Tortoise tucked in beside her.

 

"Hope?" He asked of the ceiling. "What should I do?"

 

No answer came, of course, but he did make a decision. Hope would never take up the portal again just for money, that had been their arrangement. No. He needed to tough it out, just see how things went in market the next day. Naturally, it went poorly. There had been a surplus of mushrooms from the rains and he only brought in enough to buy a basket of fruit and a buckle for Grace's busted shoe. As usual, he let her shop, skipping between carts. Most days she didn't ask for anything, just looked and smiled, pointing and chattering about this or that. Today, though, something caught her eye. A stuffed rabbit.

 

They couldn't afford it, the proprietor was not negotiating and it tortured Jefferson that he couldn't get for Grace the one thing she'd asked for, in earnest, in years. He anguished over it the whole walk home, even after Grace asked him what was wrong and assured him she was happy. He spent the whole evening making her a toy, used up the best of his fabrics and buttons, but by the stars, she was going to have just one thing she wanted. It was a shoddy, mismatched imitation of the little white rabbit in a waistcoat she'd wanted but Grace had accepted it with a bright smile and set him to work at her tea party straightaway.

 

Still, Jefferson wasn't happy. She deserved better than a hand-me-down tea set and two ragged toys. That was all she had and yet she still smiled like it was the whole world laid out in front of her. Such a sweet, wonderful little person should have more, the best. He made his decision then, sitting at her pretend tea. Hope would forgive him this once, this one slip for the sake of their Grace.

 

Grace took the news poorly, just like her mother would have, jumping to the correct conclusion almost instantly. The way she looked at him when she asked if it was to do with the Queen, the way she insisted that he not do anything for her, that almost gave him pause. But he had made his decision, as bitter a pill as it was to swallow, he was going to take Regina to Wonderland if it meant that Grace would have everything she wanted and needed. And he meant everything.

 

"All I need is you, Papa. Please stay." She pouted her lips, but before she could bring in the full Hope-look, Jefferson gathered her up and took her to get her cloak on. She was almost too tall now for him to carry. He wished she weren't so light. That steeled his resolve.

 

"I'm sorry, baby. I have to go."

 

Grace looked up at him, brow needled, worry in her eyes. Clearly, she remembered what happened the last time Jefferson left to do something for someone. "Just promise me you'll come back. You have to promise."

 

Jefferson had gotten good at hiding things from her over the years as she got better and better at sounding, looking, acting like her mother. It was only a wince this time.

 

"For our tea party. Promise?" She was so adamant, the only explanation was that she did remember, her mother never came home last time. She was frightened he wouldn't this time.

 

When Jefferson told her he wouldn't miss it for the world, he was being serious and deadly literal. He absolutely would not abandon her. That hadn't changed. Wouldn't change. For a second he considered taking off his wedding ring, which he'd moved a long time ago to his right hand out of pain, and giving it to Grace as something to sell if he shouldn't return. That was too pessimistic, though. He was coming back for her.

 

He explained that to Hope on the walk to the Queen's palace, accursed hat box in hand.

 

"I'll ask the Queen to swear she'll give Grace everything. Everything. There won't be another rabbit she can't have, a warm meal she doesn't get. No more dried vegetables and clover tea. And… and I might not even go with Regina. I can open the portal for her and send her in on her own. She only needs my portal magic." He kicked a pinecone, sent is crashing into a tree stump.

 

"I'm sorry, Hope. I know I promised you I'd never leave her again, but I have to, she deserves better." Jefferson stopped on the border of the castle's grounds and ran his hand over his face.

 

"I miss you. I love you. I'm so, so sorry. I'll see you soon, but not today."

 

Being in the Queen's palace again made him feel trapped. He hated the guard escorting him, felt haunted by the possibility that she remembered his theft, had figured out his trickery with Rumpelstiltskin and was egging him here to rip his heart out. But, it wasn't so simple as that. It wasn't so simple as just a request either. He soon found, the portal whooshing at their feet, that he was under orders at that point, that the Queen wasn't going in without him. Even with her lame jokes and near-to compliment comments, the Queen was up to something. Jefferson could only wince.

 

The hat room brought back bad feelings, beyond memories to flashbacks. He walked through it to the Looking Glass, ignoring the shadow of Hope fracturing to his right, the hours jumping back and forth through the Dreamland door behind it. His palms chafed and body ached just being in there. Stepping through the looking glass felt even worse. And all this while trying not to let on just what anguish he felt to Regina. It seemed to be working, though, he sounded grumpy rather than aggrieved.

 

His resigned exasperation was real, however, as they stepped into Wonderland. He could only think to himself, 'great, we came in at the giant garden place. Look at the enormous mushrooms and the towering grass. Sure, nothing could go wrong here. It's not like an enormous puppy is going to come eat us, right?'

 

His chagrin only worsened when a frankly gargantuan caterpillar smoking a hookah turned around to blow smoke rings in his face. Regina was bemused, amused even, by the strangeness of the world and her attitude only worsened as they marched on. She was too bold, sneaking into the Queen of Hearts replanted bush maze. Jefferson resisted, but he needed her to get back to Grace, so he helped. They were pursued at first but they escaped, were at the Looking Glass when Regina showed her true colors.

 

Jefferson couldn't believe it, at first. It seemed too surreal. Regina's father, trapped in a little box. That was who she was retrieving, not what. Two in, two out. He was going to be trapped. Jefferson had been speechless when the box revealed a man, had felt his head splitting in panic several seconds later. And Regina, Regina heartless witch she had been since his first encounter left her broken, did exactly what he'd worried. She was paying him back and getting something she wanted in return.

 

He'd have strangled her for it if she hadn't rooted him to the spot. He was trapped. Jefferson's mind fractured a little just then, when the ground became solid around his feet and it was clear that he wasn't going home, that he had abandoned Grace. He begged Regina, pleaded that she think of his daughter. The Queen spit back poison as only she knew how.

 

"If you truly cared for your daughter, you never would have left her in the first place." She looked regretful for a tiny instant after saying it and Jefferson hoped she would change her mind. She didn't. "You were right, Jefferson. You don't abandon family."

 

The fracture split larger and Jefferson felt the tiny splinters that had been in his heart since Hope's demise crack and spread. He felt heavy again. Helpless. He screamed as they stepped through the Looking Glass but even as he did so he knew it was pointless. That was when it broke. His heart shattered and left him limp and staring at the mirror. He didn't resist, didn't care when he was dragged away to court. Nothing mattered. He might as well die.

 

Jefferson alternated between thinking about Grace and Hope as he was led into court. If he behaved, beseeched this Queen of Hearts, the maybe, just maybe he could get home to his dear Grace. If that failed, then he would be put to death and finally see Hope again. In the panic and the grief, he couldn't decide on which one. When that choice was taken from him, when the Queen whispered up her horn 'off with his head' he was terrified, naturally, but he also felt relieved.

 

The zing of the axe as it swung through the air was slower than he'd expected. He had a moment to consider that his Hope had survived this somehow and now, now that he'd failed her, he was paying this for her. Unfortunately, all his planning fell through when the blade passed through him in a brief, blinding streak of pain but he didn't open his eyes to Hope's face. Instead, it was the Court in all their ugly pomp. He wasn't dead. He'd lost his head but wasn't dead.


	11. Downward Spiral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Wonderland yet again and now without hope of escape Jefferson finally succumbs to its madness. Sadly, that is neither a quick nor painless process.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was really difficult to write, and I think it's pretty evident it has some war wounds. All the same, the monotony and teeth-pulling that the sheer length of it alone entails is part of living Jefferson's experience, I think. You've been warned. Also, as expected, things get a little darker here. Mild suicidal themes at points.

"How am I going to get it to work?" Jefferson tried to twist around to ask the guard escorting him, but he didn't have a body, which made that fairly difficult. "I don't have magic."

 

He earned no response. He wasn't even sure the guard had the ability to talk. His scalp was aching, his hair was the only thing keeping his head aloft. They were walking down an extravagant hallway, all red and hearts. Somewhere behind and below him, Jefferson heard something being dragged. He assumed it was his body. He hoped it was his body. If they didn't give him back his body he had no chance of getting a hat to work.

 

He thought of Hope. Hope never told him that you didn't die in Wonderland when you lost your head. Maybe she didn't know, maybe she didn't want to think about the possibility. Maybe she just didn't think it was going to be useful information. He wondered what she would have done in this situation. Escaped, obviously, and before the axe did its job. Not found herself there again in the first place, no doubt. Hope. He'd promised her so much and failed her, failed Grace.

 

The next person he saw was the first besides the Knave not to wear a mask. He had a monocle on and seemed very serious about an incredibly obvious hairpiece he was wearing.

 

"You're here to open a portal, yes?" He asked of Jefferson, bobbing his head along with Jefferson as the guard's arms shook some.

 

"A hat… yes, a magical hat will open a portal, but how can I? How can I get it to work without magic?"

 

The man shrugged and pulled out a sewing kit. "You're a hatter, aren't you? I'd imagine you'd start by making a hat."

 

Jefferson noticed the red ring around this man's neck. He'd been beheaded, too. "Has…has anyone here not lost their head?"

 

"No," the man grinned as he held up a threaded needle and reached towards Jefferson. "I think it's quite clear we're all mad."

 

It was a strange sensation, having one's head sewed back on. First, it was the snap as they fixed it in place straight, then the tingling and twitching as everything came back to life. Finally, they literally sewed it together to keep it on. It was all very bewildering and Jefferson felt out of himself as they escorted him farther down the hallway, down, down, down into the bowels of the palace and into a great room with one table sitting dead in the center of it. They guard shoved him inside and he stumbled, turning around in uncertainty.

 

"What am I doing here?"

 

The little man who'd sewed his head back on was looking increasingly more like a frog by the minute. "You're here to make that portal hat. So make hats. Get it to work." He cleaned his monocle on his shirt sleeve and then gestured to the guard to shut the door.

 

"Wait! Wait!" Jefferson ran to the door, pummeled his fists against it, but it was no use. No one was coming back for him. "How am I to make a hat without the tools, without the fabrics?"

 

He slid down in front of the door, staring at the huge empty room in front of him.

 

"How am I to do anything?"

 

The emptiness and silence grew very imposing very quickly. Jefferson felt like his head was buzzing. Driven off his ass by the persistent niggling in his head, he finally paced around the great room, inspecting what was there. Besides the desk, there was nothing, just a great, plain, empty room. Finally, he came to the table which was actually a workbench as he soon discovered with its divots and drawers for pens and tools. There was nothing in those either.

 

"I can't make a hat if there's nothing to make a hat out of," Jefferson grumbled, slamming the drawer shut and slouching into the chair. "I need wire and fabric and shears and needles. I need quite a lot more than nothing."

 

Still frustrated with the impossibility presented to him in this mad world he kicked the desk. One of the drawers tipped open to reveal hat wire, and below that a few folds of fabric and shears and needles.

 

"What?" He stood up and emptied the supplies from the drawer, reaching his hand inside to search out anything else. "There wasn't anything in there before. Was there?"

 

The great echoing silence of the room was the only thing to answer. Jefferson decided to try it again.

 

"I need thread, every color of thread. And a hat stand. And a hat block. 8 9/10." He waited a moment and then slid open the drawer. Sure enough there were the requested supplies. He kept on like this until he'd put together a kit that would do for hat making.

 

This was going to work, he decided. He was going to make a hat and, at this magic workbench with magical supplies, he would get it to work.

 

"I'm coming home, Grace," he mumbled as he fit the millinery wire to the hat block. "Your Papa is going to come home just like he promised, as soon as he gets this hat to work."

 

The first hat took him some time. He worked with great care and precision to imitate his magic hat. When it was finished he leapt up and took the hat by the brim. It felt good, handled well. With a flick of his wrist he sent it twirling on the ground in front of him. It tilted in a loose circle for a second before settling on its top. Nothing happened.

 

"Maybe I need to twirl it faster." Jefferson knelt down beside it and spun it hard.

 

It whirled like a top and did absolutely nothing else. Jefferson felt his neck start to itch. He knelt there, trembling, as a wave of panic and rage built up inside him. He had to get it to work. If this didn't work he'd be trapped there in this room, in this mad, infuriating world, away from Grace. She would believe he'd abandoned her. He'd promised to come home. He couldn't break her heart by breaking his promise. She was his world. All that he loved.

 

 _If you truly cared for your daughter, you never would have left her in the first place._ Regina's words rang in his head like a bell.

 

Jefferson scrambled to his feet and kicked the hat, screaming. He shouted and thrashed around, tried to beat down the door for hours. No one ever came. Nothing ever happened. He was just left in his cell, alone, shouting at cobwebs. Finally, his voice hoarse and throat raw, he crumpled to his knees and cried. It was the first time he'd really allowed himself to cry since right after Hope was lost. He wept and cursed and pleaded, but still nothing happened. Eyes swollen and heavy, throat tight, raw, and itching, he stopped.

 

There was no point. Now there really was no point. The hat didn't work. No one was going to pay him the slightest bit of mind in this dungeon. He'd might as well just lie down and give up. That was precisely what he did. He laid on that dungeon floor for days, not eating as there was no food, not drinking for the same reason, and not sleeping because every time he closed his eyes he saw Hope and Grace in misery. The only two people he'd ever loved, both failed by him, lives lost and ruined because of him.

 

By the third day, he was hallucinating. Every once in a while he'd see a flash of something he knew wasn't there, finished hats, thread and feathers, or he'd hear things, laughter or screaming. But he was alone. Alone in an empty room. It was the thirst that got to him first. Tongue swollen and dry in his mouth, Jefferson rolled over onto his back and prayed to die.

 

"If I could only die," Jefferson rasped, "then, then I would find some relief. I could see you, Hope. I miss you. I love you. I'm so, so sorry. I will see you very soon."

 

He shut his eyes and ignored the images on the inside of their lids. He just held very still and waited to die.

 

"Well, you're never going to escape that way."

 

Jefferson's eyes fluttered open. That had sounded far more real than his hallucinations, more present, louder and clearer.

 

"Over here, Hatter."

 

Jefferson struggled to crane his neck towards the sound of the voice. Sure enough, grinning as always, was the Cheshire Cat floating over the workbench.

 

"They won't let you die. They'll stuff you full of go-go beans and bring you right back. You have to escape somehow else."

 

"I can't. The hat won't work." At any other time, in any other situation, the desperation in Jefferson's voice would have made him cringe. He sounded so pitiful.

 

The cat turned to eye the hat over-turned in a corner. "Well, not that one. Have you only tried to one?"

 

"If one hat won't work, what makes you think another one I make will?"

 

"How do you know it won't until you try?"

 

"Because that's logically how things work. If you do one thing one way and it results one way, then every time you do it afterwards will have the same result."

 

"Then do it a different way," the cat purred and alighted on the bench. "By the way, have you asked it for its mulberry wine? The Workbench makes lovely mulberry wine." It launched off the table, knocking the drawer open, and disappeared mid-leap.

 

"Wine?" Jefferson asked. No response. The cat must have really already gone.

 

Mustering his remaining strength, Jefferson crawled to the table and peered inside the drawer. It wasn't empty. He gasped and pulled out a jug of dark purple liquid. One sip told him it was wine. Astonished, he shut the drawer and set aside the jug.

 

"I need water, fresh water and cheese and bread and grapes and chestnuts and…" Jefferson listed off every food he'd been secretly thinking about as he waited to starve to death. Opening the drawer revealed just these. He tucked in immediately, eating as much as he could as quickly as he could.

 

"I have to stop," he said, chugging the last of his water and sitting back sated. "I'll make myself sick, not that I don't deserve that."

 

Suddenly he felt guilty again. He'd been trying to die, like he should. Though, admittedly that was selfish as well. What he really needed was to get a hat to work. He felt hopeless again.

 

"How? How am I to get it to work, Hope? How?"

 

With a heavy sigh, Jefferson climbed upright and sat down at the workbench to consider things. "If that hat didn't work, then perhaps the cat was right. I need to do it a different way. I'll make a different looking hat, Hope, I'll make your hat. Your hat, Hope, it's bound to be magical, right?"

 

He nodded and began requesting the fabric and threading from the work bench. Her hat took him just as long, longer because he was shaking from exhaustion. When the silence became unbearable to him, he'd comment on the hat or ask questions of Hope, just to make some noise, to have something to keep his ears from ringing and his head from buzzing. After Hope's hat didn't work, he huffed angrily but tried again, another hat another chance. Jefferson kept at it like this until he couldn't see straight or hold his hand steadily enough to thread a needle.

 

Then he climbed onto the floor and laid his head on a pile of fabric, waiting for sleep to come. Instead, guilt and terror and obsessive thoughts of Hope's death, of Grace's fate plagued him until he sat up screaming. He had to sleep. He couldn't get it to work if he didn't sleep. If he didn't get it to work all those things he saw would happen; Grace would be kidnapped by pirates, be eaten by ogres, be sold into slavery, starve, catch the pox, be taken by dark fairies.

 

"No!" Jefferson covered his ears with his hands and begged the whispers to stop. He wasn't going to let those things happen. "How can I sleep, Hope? How can I sleep?"

 

_The same way I slept, Jefferson._

 

His shoulders untensed. That was her voice, her sweet smooth voice. It didn't matter that it sounded like it was echoing around in his head. It was Hope.

 

"Yes, dreamberries," he nodded and limped to the workbench. "I need dreamberry powder."

 

Opening the desk, he found a little sugar pot full of silvery-purple dust. He sighed and reached for the mulberry wine. Just a dash.

 

"Just a dash, Hope, I promise. I'll sleep and then I'll make the hat, get it to work. Then, I can go back to Grace. My dear Grace."

 

 _Of course, my love, but only a dash._ Jefferson smiled to assure her. Only a dash. He poured a full spoonful into the wine and then took a long drag. It was only seconds before he was engulfed in dark, unfeeling, oblivious sleep.

 

He had no idea how long he slept, but when he woke, Jefferson was a riot of anxious energy. He lunged back to the workbench and finished the hat he'd been working on before. It didn't work, so he tried another, then another, then another. Every hat was different, a little something new about it, different fabric, different color, different style, different accents. Soon he was stacking them on top of each other. Every time his hand started shaking he'd eat something, a bit of bread, a chunk of cheese, but he was focused. He had to get a hat to work. He had to get home to Grace.

 

"Maybe a bowler, Hope, a bowler. The old baker had a bowler, his bread was magical. Bowler, bowler, bowler. Funny word, that. And crushed felt. Yes, yes. Felt feels feelings. Come on, it'll work. I know it will. I must get it to work!"

 

Hope didn't always respond, only when he was trembling from exhaustion. Jefferson would work himself to those points, wait for her to come to him and tell him it was okay, that he could sleep then, just a little dreamberry. He'd only sleep with its dead dark help. Every time he did, the morning after would leave him brimming over with more energy than he could contain. Hats dominated his thoughts, new types of hats, new kinds of colors, new things to decorate them with. He started labeling them, an old habit but one that made him feel productive. He'd get one to work. Just watch, one would work. In the meantime, he had hundreds to sell! Plenty of money to keep Grace fed.

 

"Do you hear that, Hope? Grace will never be hungry! I'll sell my hats, all these hats! She'll eat like the Queen! She'll be able to eat the Queen if she wants!" He fell into hysterical giggles and snipped the ribbon trailing off the hat with satisfaction. "Off with her head!"

 

The days passed slowly, one indistinguishable from the next in a room without windows permanently lit by chandeliers. Soon he was completely unaware of when it was, how long he'd been there. He had one objective: work until he passed out, then work again. Work, work, work until he got one to work.

 

"Just one hat is all it takes, to get me back to my dear Grace!" He sang on and off, humming the tune he put the words to when he wasn't singing them. At other moments he sung along with Hope in his head, changing the lyrics to her little rhymes. "Twinkle, twinkle magic hat, how I wonder where you're at. Spinning off far in the sky, when I see the Queen I'll make her die!"

 

When Hope wasn't entertainment enough, Jefferson talked to others. Grace was first. He swore up and down he'd be back, she'd see him soon. He was close. He only had to get one to work. Then he'd never leave her again. Never. Promise. He'd be home for tea every single day. In darker moods he'd make deals with Rumpelstiltskin, promise him horrible things to just get out of this place and back home. Other times, he'd rail at Regina, throw things at her, kill her sometimes, though Hope would always tut at that. Some days he'd talk to the Cheshire Cat. It was the most sociable, always with a quick response that Jefferson found fascinating, mostly because he couldn't predict it.

 

"You do see, Hatter, that I am really here, don't you?"

 

Jefferson nodded hard and pointed his shears at each of his conversation partners that day. "Yes, naturally, I'm looking right at you, like I am at Hope and Rumpelstiltskin."

 

The cat flipped upside down, propped its head on its stomach. "That's a shame. That is. You were the last of the ones with a good head on his shoulders."

 

"Were?" Jefferson scoffed, "I am still now as much as I am still. And I'm very still still."

 

The cat grinned broadly and landed on the desk. "Yes, yes, you are, Hatter. You know, I rather like this hat," it reached for the one Jefferson had just finished, asked as he stroked it with a claw. "May I have it?

 

Jefferson snatched it away and snarled, "are you trying to keep me here, cat?!"

 

"No, no. You're doing that all by yourself. Did you learn nothing from your Hope?"

 

Jefferson would bear no one mentioning Hope except positively. He lashed out at the cat, batted at him with scissors.

 

"Oh, poor Hatter, lost his head and never put it back again. Now he talks to shadows, empty air, pretending there are others there." The cat chanted blithely and floated through the wall, leaving Jefferson in a rage. He spent hours picking up the towers of hats he scattered after that.

 

On occasion, hats weren't coming together like he wanted so he sat at the bench and demanded materials for days, literal days on end, until he had piles of rich, patterned fabrics and shining ribbons, and feathers and buttons. The next few times the Cheshire Cat appeared, Jefferson chased it out screaming and throwing things at it. Eventually, though, Hope's voice bubbled sweetly about giving it another chance, how it had helped him before, and Jefferson had calmed down, allowed it inside.

 

"But it's a dirty, nasty lying fur ball, Hope. I don't trust it."

 

_I know, my love, but look, he's brought a friend._

 

"A friend? A friend. I don't have any friends, don't need any friends. I'm going to get it to work. Get it to work! No need for friends. I'll be gone when I get it to work. I'll get it to work. I have to get it to work. Get it to work," he kept mumbling quietly those same four words over and over again, even as the cat started talking to him.

 

"Oh, look, Hare. The Hatter has ceased throwing hats and is now making them. How refreshing."

 

"Hats? Why hats? Haven't you got enough already? You don't like the one you're wearing?"

 

"I've got to get one to work. It only takes one. Just one hat is all it takes to get me home to my dear Grace." He hummed the rhyme again and started threading a needle.

 

"Well, that makes enough sense to me, Cat. I think you're wrong, he seems fine."

 

"Of course, you think that, Hare, you're just as mad as him."

 

Jefferson slammed his hands down on the table, sending spooling and fabric flying. "I am not mad!"

 

"No, surely not, Hatter. My apologies. And nor am I!" The cat chuckled and perched on top of a pile of hats. "It's all relative, really."

 

But Jefferson had stopped paying attention, was back to fixing this hat. "Get it to work. Get it to work. Get it to work."

 

_My love, you have visitors._

 

"Just a manic hare and an evil, prophetic cat. Hardly worth my time! I'd better spend it getting this hat to work."

 

"Yes, that'll be the one that does it," the cat purred. "Undoubtedly."

 

"It will. I'll get it to work."

 

The Hare had been hopping around, inspecting things, completely unfazed by Jefferson's insult. "What do you want it to do?"

 

"Work!" Jefferson barked.

 

"Yes, he heard that, Hatter. What do you mean by 'work' is what the hare is asking."

 

"It'll open a portal, take me home to my dear Grace."

 

"What grace?"

 

Jefferson paused. No one had ever asked about Grace here before. He looked over at the hare watching him with head tilted to the side. "My Grace."

 

"Your grace for what? You didn't bring it with you?"

 

"Her."

 

"Her? Your grace is a female? What makes that so?"

 

"Her ears," Jefferson sneered down and then burst into giggles.

 

_Very funny, my love. Well played._

 

"I knew it was the ears! You can always tell by the ears--wait. Your grace has ears?"

 

"Of course she has, how else could she hear?"

  
"A conundrous question you pose, Hatter. If a grace hasn't ears how does it hear?"

 

"She."

 

"She."

 

"Oh, oh! I have a riddle. Why is a raven like a writing desk?"

 

"Is it time for riddles, then?" The Cheshire Cat yawned and curled up in a ball.

 

Jefferson tossed that over and over as he kept sewing. Eventually he said, "neither can actually write?"

 

"What? What can write? Your grace?"

 

"Yes, Grace can write. I taught her myself."

 

"You taught your grace to write? It has thumbs as well as ears?!"

 

"Most little girls do," Jefferson informed him and held out the hat at arm's length. "Needs more lace."

 

"Little girl? Where? I've never seen a girl before!"

 

_Silly Haigha, you've seen me._

 

Jefferson chuckled, "quite right. He has."

 

"Who has."

 

"You have."

 

"Have what."

 

"Seen her."

 

"Seen who?"

 

"Seen Hope."

 

"Hope who?"

 

"Her, Hope."

 

"Whose Hope?"

 

"She's my wife, and you're old schoolmistress!"

 

"Missus?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Oh! Missus Hope. I see."

 

"Sure you do, she's right there."

 

"Right where?"

 

"Right here!" Jefferson bellowed, pointing to where he saw Hope sitting on his workbench.

 

"Oh, yes… obviously, your hope, to get home when you get the hat to work."

 

"Right." Jefferson sat down with a huff and picked back up with his sewing. "Get it to work."

 

"Get it to work!" The Hare cheered him on, began chanting with him, "get it to work. Get it to work. Get. It. To. Work!" He hopped around the work bench, trying on different hats and keeping up the chant.

 

Jefferson grinned eventually enjoying the encouragement. Of a sudden an idea struck him. He tossed aside his tools and kicked the workbench. "Fancy a cup of tea, Hare?"

 

_Oh, some tea would be lovely, Jefferson._

 

_Yes. A tea party with my white rabbit._

 

"My Grace likes you, Hare."

 

"I like tea."

 

He pulled a full tea set out of the workbench and laid it out. "How do you take it?"

 

"With my paw," the Hare replied, scooping up his cup and dumping the whole of the sugar bowl in it. "Oh, too sweet."

 

Jefferson took it away and then pulled another cup out of the drawer. "There. Fancy dreamberry powder?"

 

"Oh, sounds lovely--"

 

"And… come now, Hare. We've… overstayed our welcome and overtaxed the Hatter." The Cheshire Cat was awake and pulling the Hare away by his waistcoat.

 

"No. Not at all. You're welcome back any time for tea." Jefferson threw his dreamberry-laced tea back and then tossed aside the cup. "I enjoyed the--" and he didn't make it any further than that, falling dead asleep mid-sentence.

 

When next he awoke, Jefferson was not only muttering to himself already -- which he'd found had started happening in his sleep -- but he didn't remember beginning on the particular hat he was holding. And it was almost finished. That bothered him until he couldn't remember what was bothering him, only that he was bothered, and then he realized that he didn't know what had stopped him working, only that it had. He promptly picked back up again, confident that this one would work. Over and again he would find himself confused as to why he was doing what he was doing because he didn't recall deciding to do it. Things worked out, though, because he was only ever doing one thing, making hats to get it to work. In time, the bewilderment stopped being off-putting and he ceased to consider it confusion, just something normal, like a sneeze. When the sneeze was too great, you did something about it, you blew your nose. Likewise when his mental hiccup was too jarring to recover from, he simply pulled out a new tea service from the workbench and sweetened it with dreamberry powder, toasting Grace before eliminating any and all thoughts. All fixed.

 

An indeterminable number of days after his last visit from the Cat and the Hare, Jefferson was visited by someone new. He was fresh from a drug induced nap and nearly unintelligible even to himself when the Knave of Hearts came pitter-pattering inside.

 

"Bend it, shape it, cover it, sew it. Come on, come on, come one, just one, just get one to work. Got to. Got to. Got to what? Get it to work! One hat, one for Grace. One with lace!"

 

"Ahem."

 

Jefferson stabbed himself with his needle in his surprise. "Yow! Ahem to yourself. Who is that? Do you know? No. Something sniveling, something small. Something knavish. The Knave! The Knave of Hearts. Good, good, very good." He stood up and straightened his hat. "What do you want?"

 

"The Queen desires a report on your work to create a magic hat."

 

"Magic hat? My hat? Do you have it?" Jefferson scampered around the bench and piles of hats to the Knave, hardly deterred by the guards with spears. "It's about yay high, looks like a hat, a bit like this," he pulled off the one he was wearing that day and exchanged it for another.

 

"No, Hatter. That's why you're here. To make the hat and get it to work."

 

"Get it to work!"

 

"Yes, get it to work." The Knave slinked around the teetering towers behind Jefferson, staring at him as he furiously continued smoothing the fabric on a brim. "Have you?"

 

"Get it to work. I have to get it to work. I will. I will get one to work. Just one hat is all it takes to get me home to see my Grace!"

 

"Yes… quite…" The Knave milled around Jefferson's workbench, stepping over shards of teacups, fabric snippings and rubbish. He stopped at the sugar pot of dreamberry powder, wrinkling his nose when he sniffed it. "And just what are you doing with this contraband?"

 

"Contraband? Contrasand. Berries to dust. Dust to sleep." He tried one ribbon, exchanged it for another. "No dust, no sleep. No sleep, no hats. No hats…"

 

The Knave waited patiently as Jefferson hung on that final pair of causalities. He waited a fair minute or so, then he sighed.

 

"No hats…?"

 

That made Jefferson wince and shudder. "No Grace. No Hatter. No matter!"

 

"Yes… well, I can see from this that something's not working here, Hatter. I'll report to the Queen. Maybe she can think of a way to incentivize you."

 

"I'll get it to work. I will. It'll work. Tell him, Hope. I'm going to do it, I promised. No more broken promises. Home for tea, home for me. Just one, I'll get just one to work and then everything will go back. Back, back, back! Back to normal. We'll all be happy. One big happy family. Won't we. Hope? Yes. Yes, of course. You've never failed me, never led me astray. Just one. Just one, you said, and you'll be right. And we can sew together. Sew buttons!"

 

Jefferson didn't notice the Knave leave, not until the door slammed shut. That didn't bother him, either. What did bother him later was the missing sugar pot. He overturned the place looking for it. After that, he demanded more from the workbench, but it only spit out a note in swirly script telling him he wouldn't get anymore until he made 'my' hat. They were wrong. It was his hat, Jefferson's hat, and screaming about that was all fine and good until his mind skipped and he found himself rocking in a corner shielding his face from something horrible. He didn't know what, only that he was terrified.

 

Without the dreamberry powder the dark thoughts came back. Unable to work from exhaustion but unable to sleep, Jefferson was tormented again by image after image of what his guilt wrought, how he'd failed, and what that caused. His conversations with Hope intensified, mounting to new heights as he begged for forgiveness, explained, and pleaded for hours. At the end, he would fall asleep, but it would be restless, leave him feeling drawn and twitchy when he awoke.

 

Without the dreamberry powder a bit of clarity also came back. In the midst of ranting about hats and portals and mistakes, he would fall silent and realize where he was. Then the truly terrifying bit came, the utter hopelessness, the bleak acceptance of the enormity of his fall from Grace. Those moments were the longest, quietest parts of his time in the Palace. He knew Hope wasn't there, he knew Grace wasn't there. He knew. He was completely alone, a fool in a top hat, trying futilely to make magic from nothing. Insane. Trying iteration after the next to get it to work. When he was like that, he didn't work. He knew it to be pointless. He sat and stared, broken and paralyzed by reality, crushed under the weight of his mistakes.

 

Luckily, that never lasted too long. The dreamberries had been too effective, taken too frequently. His mind would hiccup or he would fall asleep and then start back up again manically mad as before. One thing remained clear: he hadn't gotten one to work. And so the hat-making would resume. Eventually, the Queen seemed to see the futility that sober Jefferson often saw in his assignment. After thousands upon thousands of attempts, it became painfully obvious to even the most delusional and insane that the Hatter wasn't going to get it to work.

 

"Why hasn't it worked? Why haven't I gotten one to work?"

 

The day the Knave came with the news, Jefferson was a-flustered. Hope had been fairly talkative that day and had made a brilliant, resounding and upsetting point: if Jefferson had made twenty-six thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine hats, why ever in the world would that twenty-seven thousandth hat be the one that worked? Wouldn't the magic of the workbench have kicked in by then? Or in the least, already worn out? Perhaps he should go about checking the hats he'd already made to make sure one of them didn't work.

 

So, he'd set about twirling hat after hat, sometimes over and over again until the fabric wore thin.

 

"How about this one? Surely this one. Maybe it's not finished! Maybe I need to add something. Then, I'll get it to work." He snatched up the poor, bent up hat he'd been flinging across the room like a discus and took it to his workbench. "A flower. No. A bit of satin. No. A bit of satiny flowers."

 

_Oh, dear, I don't think that'll help, Jefferson. Love, that hat's had it. You've twirled its life away._

 

"No, no, no, no. I can still get it to work! My hat was tattered and torn. It worked. Just a little magic is all it needs. You know what is magic, Hope?"

 

_No, what's that?_

 

"TEA!" Jefferson scooped up the cup he'd been drinking on and off again and poured it into the hat. "Tea is magic. Your tea. There."

 

The long ago chilled tea sloshed around in the top of the hat, leaking slowly out of its tatters and tears. Jefferson was unfazed when, upon tossing it out again, the hat behaved as a tea sprinkler, flinging the liquid everywhere. He was only upset when he found the tea hadn't gotten it to work.

 

"More tea. Fresh, hot tea. TEA!" He demanded as he kicked the workbench. Dumping the contents into four separate hats, he wasted that fresh pot and scalded his hand, but succeeded in nothing else. Those four hats didn't even whirl as well as before.

 

 _You know…_ Hope spoke coaxingly as Jefferson poured the spoilt remnants of the tea onto the ground. _I do believe that it may very well be our daughter's birthday again soon._

 

"Birthday! Grace needs a gift. A proper gift. She… she deserves a beautiful gift. What? What? What can I get her? A hat. A hat that she can wear and that brings her Papa back! YES! A hat! A perfect hat. It has to be perfect."

 

  
He was scrambling around gathering the materials for said perfect hat when the Knave made his grand yet unimpressive entrance. He stood, watching Jefferson dart and jabber for a few moments before shouting at him.

 

"Hatter! Hatter! HATTER!"

 

Jefferson skidded to a stop. "Yes? KNAVE!"

 

"What are you doing?"

 

Jefferson snorted and waved his arms around him. "What do you think? Making hats!"

 

"Not running around like that you're not."

 

"I'm getting the materials to make the perfect hat, you sniveling little man."

 

"Hatter!"

 

_Jefferson, my love, do not provoke the Queen's pet._

 

"KNAVE!"

 

"Oh, goodness." The Knave pushed his fingers into his eyes. "Nonetheless, Hatter, you needn't bother anymore."

 

"Needn't bother? Needn't bother?! It's my daughter's birthday, my dear Grace's birthday! She needs her father and her hat!"

 

"That's not what I mean. Guards." The escorting entourage of guardsmen stomped inside and flanked Jefferson.

 

"May I help you?" He asked as he sat at the workbench and was surrounded.

 

"Yes, Hatter. You're finished here. The Queen no longer desires or requires your services. It's clear you'll never get it to work, no matter how many you make."

 

"Oh! Unhand me! Off! Off! I can walk still." Jefferson twisted out of the guards' grasps and darted to the door. "You don't have to tell me twice. I'm free?"

 

"You're free to leave. In fact, you must leave the Palace. Immediately."

 

Jefferson looked back at all his hats and then down the hall he'd not seen for who knew how long. Fresh air, sunlight, freedom. He could make it work out there. He edged over to where he saw Hope leaning against the wall.

 

"Let's give them a run, shall we?"

 

_Oh, I do so love to see them fall all over themselves._

 

Jefferson didn't need any more encouragement. He darted out of that room and down the hall without a blink. Hope was pulling him along, he was getting away from there. Across the grounds, around the maze and straight into the abutting woods. He was laughing, Hope was as well. They were escaping together again. Holding his hat onto his head, he dove into the shrubs and low hanging branches. His legs remembered being here, leapt and shifted weight where they hadn't last time. He ran and ran just barely keeping Hope's skirt tails in sight. She was much faster than him still. In a blink, he was standing in front of Hope's cottage. A literal blink. He had been in the dark of the wood and then he was a foot away from the door.

 

That escaped him immediately, however. He was looking for Hope. She was nowhere to be found, had skipped away, no doubt, and became immersed in something. He searched for her persistently but gave up when the night fell. Instead he went inside and made tea. Someone had kept the house stocked with sundries, probably the Hare, and Jefferson found the things he needed very easily. The problem was making the tea itself. He always forgot what he was doing in the middle of doing it. Either that, or there was something intrinsically wrong with the tea. So he made pot after pot, using all the dishware in the house to hold the tea.

 

_Jefferson, Jefferson, Jefferson! My love, what are you doing?_

 

He sat up straight and looked around. "Hope?"

 

_Yes, silly. And just why have you made eighty cups of tea? Feeling restless?_

 

He was. He was restless and he couldn't recall why. "Yes… but tea… it's always a good idea."

 

_That's true. Tea is a lovely thing. Are you going to have a party for Grace?_

 

"Yes! Yes, absolutely. A party in the garden, she loves the garden. Just like you. I'll pull the tables out. There'll be cakes and tea and…and…and hats! Tea and cakes and her birthday hat! She'll love it."

 

_Oh, yes, my love she will._

 

"And she'll forget I left her and forgive me my stupidity." He nodded hard and started gathering up the dishes.

 

 _Undoubtedly_.

 

He took the cups, still full and at varying temperatures outside first, sat them in the light of the stars. Then dragged out the tables, all three. Then he pillaged some sheets from the musty linen closet, laid them out on and set the tables. All finished with that, he pulled around some chairs and sat.

 

_Now what?_

 

"Now what?" He giggled and yawned. "Now we have the party, of course."

 

_In the middle of the night, you silly man? I think not._

 

"But the stars are so bright, you can…still…see." He was very weary, bone weary. He could sit there for a minute. Just a minute before the guests arrive, to be quiet and still.

 

_Yes, yes, you can, Jefferson. But maybe you should sleep. That is what people tend to do at night._

 

"Sleep? I can't sleep. No. The bad…the dark comes when I sleep. No, I'll just sit here and wait for Grace to come."

 

He felt a hand on his brow, brushing away his hair from his eyes. It made his eyes heavy. _You needn't wait for sleep. Remember?_

 

"Oh, yes. There are many ways to bring on sleep in these realms. Sleeping spells and curse. Seeds and sand. Ha. Some sand."

 

_A little dreamsand would do the trick._

 

Jefferson nodded sleepily, "mmm, dreamsand, so soft and pink and hopeful. Oh, Hope, it's been so long since I've dreamed. Since…since--" He sat up with a hiss. "No. No dreamsand! Wretched sand and its lazy horrible world!" He batted at the memories pelting him, Hope falling, the first sharp moment of loss, the tears in Grace's eyes. "No. No dreamsand. No dreams."

 

The nightmares made him wince, too, made his brain buzz and finger twitch, his neck itch.

 

"No dreams. No sleep."

 

_Fine, fine, my love. No dreams, then. But, you do know what is a misnomer, dreamberry. They grow wild here. Just nab a few. You need your rest._

 

"You're right." He stood on shaking legs. "I need some rest, Hope. You always know what I need."

 

_Thank you very much. I do, don't I? Now, remember where we gathered them last we were here?_

 

"How could I forget? You were so enthusiastic that morning. Bushes… bushes over here." He wondered to the edge of the clearing, began sifting through the bushes leaves, found what he was looking for and then sat back down.

 

_Good job, my love. Just eat those and you'll find some relief._

 

The berries themselves were far sweeter than their powder, made his mouth numb, then his mind. He drifted off more gently, settling to sleep finally with his head on his arms. The sunshine on his face woke him the next morning. It was warm and a soft breeze ruffled his hair. For a moment, Jefferson thought that he and Hope must have left the bedroom window open. It was pleasant in there, in the bedroom with the window open, so he kept his eyes closed. Stayed quiet, stayed still.

 

It didn't last, though.

 

"Hatter?"

 

Jefferson found his back aching, his neck stiff. He wasn't in a nice feather bed. The window wasn't open. He wasn't at home. Hope wasn't there, not really. In the silent calm, with his mind back in Wonderland, the dark started creeping out from the corners, started snaking into the open. Movement, noise, energy, all those things scared it away and held it at bay. Jefferson kicked that back on.

 

"Hope!" He called. "It's your friend Haigha!"

 

The Hare didn't look so much confused as interested. "What are you doing out here? You not the Queen's prisoner anymore? Did you finish that hat you were making? Are you having a party?"

 

"Sleeping. No. No, obviously. Yes, a birthday tea for my dear Grace." He was on his feet immediately, dumping tea over his shoulder, stopping half way through that to dig a fire pit, collecting twigs when the pit was only a few inches deep. "Got to make fresh tea. Need fire. Need more pots--"

 

"Pots? Pots? I love pots. The Dormouse collects pots. We'll get you pots!" The Hare bounded off still screaming 'pots', while Jefferson kept haphazardly preparing a fresh tea.

 

"Cake… it was tea and cakes and…and…and… help me, Hope, help me."

 

_If you don't remember, I don't remember, my love._

 

"Something… something to do with Grace. Her… food, no, her… hair, no, yes! Her very own hat!" His dash through the cottage at breakneck speed turned up nothing that could be used to make a hat, or cakes for that matter.

 

The Hare came back, Dormouse in tow, with one of those things.

 

"Cakes!" The small mouse in a bowler hat squeaked. "Who doesn't love cakes?"

 

"Perfect! Perfect, perfect, perfect. This'll do. You're white, and you're wearing a waistcoat, a little mouse… different but not bad, now we need a turtle. You haven't got one of those around have you?"

 

"A turtle?" The Hare asked beaming. "No, but if you see one, or a tortoise around for that matter, I've got a standing bet with Cheshire that I'll beat it in a race. Let me know, will you?"

 

Jefferson nodded, still darting about finishing the things he'd started several minutes before. It would have taken him hours to finish things, as attention-deficit he was acting with each task, but the Hare hopped in helping out in his own ass-backwards ways. The Dormouse fell in asleep halfway through a cake, but it was no matter. Jefferson and the Hare were in the middle of a rousing rendition of two separate songs cacophonously melded together and sung off key. They enjoyed it very much. Jefferson especially liked how he couldn't hear or see or think about anything else while it was going on.

 

Together, the two of them boiled seventeen pots of tea and left them among variously assorted cups and saucers on the table. Jefferson refused to touch any of them until Grace arrived, but he didn't care what the Hare and the Dormouse did. He was glad to not be alone, and to have guests for Grace to enjoy when she got there. After his recitation of why rabbits were less better than hares, Haigha remembered that Jefferson was there and asked him a series of unrelated and rapid-fire questions, the last or most pressing being:

 

"Hatter, Hatter, Hatter!?! Where are all your hats? How can you be a hatter without any hats?"

 

  
"I have this one," Jefferson patted the top hat on his head. "The rest I left when I ran, but that's why I'm a hatter I can make more. Speaking of--" he leapt up from the table and tore through the house again, searching for a hat kit. "Just one, just one, that's all it takes."

 

He was humming when he returned to the table with an arms' load of low grade, makeshift supplies. He started shaping the remains of any old clothes hanger around an overturned bowl.

 

"Hat? You making a hat?"

 

"I've got to get it to work!"

 

"Oh, oh, oh! Can I have it?"

  
"With those ears? No way you could--" Jefferson burst into laughter, losing the wire frame entirely. "I see it now! You bust the top out of your last hat with your ears! That's hilarious."

 

"On accident! Not really. Can I still have it?"

  
"A rabbit in a bowler hat?"

 

"I'M A HARE!"

 

"Yes, yes, a hare. All the same, in a bowler hat? Ha!"

 

"Do you know what I saw the other day? An owl wearing glasses! How very silly is that? They have no ears at all! How do they keep them up?"

 

"Not a horned owl?"

 

"Surely not, they have horns to help with that. Besides, they are notoriously against reading."

 

"Naturally."

 

"Mm-hmm, and, and! Dormouse here, Dormouse! Dormouse!" The Hare smashed a saucer over the poor mouse's head.

 

"Cakes!"

 

"Yes. Cakes. Tell the Hatter what you saw on three days past last moon-wax."

 

"The Queen playing croquet with her mask off?"

 

"Oh! Oh, no!" The Hare darted under the table. "The Queen is here?"

 

"No, Hare, the Dormouse was asking if… what were you asking?"

 

"Did you know Dormouses are colorblind?"

 

Jefferson shook his head, genuinely interested by this. "How do you choose outfits and decide which berries will kill you or not?"

 

"Outfits all look grey so it doesn't matter and the berries we can smell. Except for when we have allergies, which I did have when I picked the berries for these. Though, I'm not dead yet."

 

"The Queen. Psst, Hatter!". The only thing showing of the Hare was his little furry tale out from beneath the table cloth. "Is the Queen gone?"

 

"If I had my way she'd be long, long gone!" Jefferson cut the yarn thread of his hat and then dipped it in a tea pot. "Felt needs soaking," he explained.

 

"Yes, you'd want it tender, wouldn't you?"

 

"Say, which berries were you using, Dormouse, for--" Before he finished asking Jefferson darted off to the dreamberry bushes and started picking them, hoarding them in his shirttails. He spent the next fifteen minutes laying the berries out in cheese cloths to dry in the sun. His guests watched curiously for a little while before getting up to help.

 

"What are we doing this for?" The Hare asked, ripping the tablecloth out from under all the tea and sending half of it crashing to the ground.

 

"To dry the berries. Hope wants me to dry the berries. Then I can make the powder."

 

"Ah, yes. Dreamberry powder. Missus used to make that for safety's sake."

 

"Mm-hmm."

 

"And why are you making it, Hatter?"

 

Jefferson's mind kick started into another gear. He stood up with a sigh. "To make it go away."

 

"What?"

 

"The pain."The Hare blinked at him for a solemn second and then twitched his ears out of agitation. "I think you need more tea."

 

Jefferson shivered and then nodded, already forgetting the cloud that had passed over him. "Yes, I think I do."

 

Jefferson and his two guests spent that day in a mixture of manic tea-making, singing, shouting some gibberish, and random hat creation, all interspersed with Jefferson's bleaker periods of reflective silence. The Hare or the Dormouse usually resolved these with an offer of some pastry or tea. Finally, though, with their outdoor hearth giving them their only light, Jefferson withdrew too far and left his furry companions frantic to bring him from his stupor. The Dormouse's furtive solution was to mix some of Jefferson's newly dried berries into their tea. Thus ended the first of many day-long tea parties.

 

These birthday parties which never received their guest of honor were continued day after day in expectation of her arrival. Days turned into weeks and would have extended into months had not the occasional rains prevented it. On rainy days, Jefferson was the worst off. The Hare and the Dormouse would return to their cottages and enjoy the comforts of their homes. Jefferson had no comforts, had no home, just Hope's old house. He would scavenge materials to make hats with or worse, entertain the idea that Hope was there in the flesh, have the day with her. That always ended in confused tears, unavoidably led to those bitter moments of clarity.

 

The next day, however, would generally be clear. It never rained for long in Wonderland. Jefferson would find his companions again in the garden and would find some solace in their non-stop and inane enthusiasm. What was better, though, was that they seemed to take some pity on him, to see that he needed help and often brought him hat-making materials. It was a few things at first, some tools here or there, then nicer fabrics. All the Hare ever wanted in return was the company. He was desperately lonely it seemed. The Dormouse would occasionally take Jefferson's sleeping sugar as he called the dreamberry powder in exchange, but never much. The Cheshire Cat even popped up once and cackled at the panic he caused, only to award Jefferson with his hat block from the palace, claiming that he couldn't stand the thing going to waste when it could be making such delicious looking headwear.

 

And so it went. And went. And went. Jefferson stopped cringing at the address 'Hatter,' began accepting it as an identity. Stopped feeling like half of him filled with dread at being awake, started enjoying the extended tea parties. He never stopped expecting Grace, though; never stopped talking to Hope. His friends, because they were friends by now, never blinked at his eccentricities, accepted them with earnest belief and a grin. The 'birthday' tea continued without question or dismay until an unexpected guest arrived.

 

The particular day of the fourth party-goer was a vibrant one. Jefferson had stayed awake through the whole night making three new hats while Haigha and Willis, as the Hare and Dormouse were occasionally known, slept. He'd helped Hope make fresh pots of tea and then watched the sun waken with her. The Cheshire Cat had made a brief appearance heralding something interesting but not explaining. He'd merely added that perhaps Jefferson should put on his best hat. His 'best hat' was a difficult decision but he eventually settled on a dark blue one with silver trim, the like of which Grace had always favored, and Hope. She'd told him he looked stunning in it and sat down at the table expectantly.

 

The Hare and Dormouse had waken slowly but started up the festivities quickly after doing so. That day, the Hare even favored them with a bit of fiddling, which he was hardly ever focused enough to do completely. They made it through almost a whole song. The Dormouse had then insisted on a game of cards, never a good idea as he was a very sore loser, but Jefferson and the Hare agreed and embarked on the complicated and infuriating game of the Queen's Hearts. Needless to say, no one ever really won.

 

It had dissolved into fury not two hands in and the Dormouse had to be trapped under a teapot with a pot of his homemade jam. That sedated him and Jefferson and the Hare were left talking over one another on vastly differing topics. Haigha was professing on the science of ear-ology, his own invention determining things by the looks of one's ears while Jefferson was attempting to relate the story of Grace's first word. It was a favorite of his. The Hare had heard it at least a dozen times, complete with sideline commentary by Hope. So, it didn't matter that neither was listening to the other.

 

"The secret is not to judge by the size, but the shape."

 

"Her eyes were just so big, I am constantly amazed by her eyes, you know. They look like they could soak in the world and the sky and all the stars and still gaze out. They're just like yours, Hope. Full of wonderment."

 

"One can get rather caught up with size but it doesn't matter. If you really look, a rounder ear is, for example, much more effective than a long one and if you can't keep all that ear up then what's the point?"

 

"What was I saying? Oh, yes. The eyes had me but then she reached out with a tiny, pudgy hand and said 'Papa.' Right to me, like she knew who I was."

 

"A male's ears are broader at the base while a female's is as broad the whole length. In humans it isn't the same, you know."

 

"'Papa.' She said 'Papa' and then grinned and it was one of the best moments of my life. I still see her--when she calls for me--see her like that. My Grace."

 

"A human's ears are much less telling, except for gender, as it’s the only way to tell between the two. With the males you can see it at the base, what I call the squirglebit--"

 

"My dear Grace. I do hope she comes soon, my love. Her tea's going to go cold. But then, she threw her porridge in my face and laughed, which was funny, yes, but did take something from the moment. She called both of us 'Papa' for weeks after that, do you rememb--"

 

"Ahem. Pardon me."

 

Both Jefferson and Haigha froze mid-sentence. It was a very small, very unassuming voice but any break from the monotony of their own two was jarring. They sat up straight and craned around to find its source.

 

"Why, it's a little… what is that a boy or a girl? I can't see its ears."

 

"Grace!" Jefferson leapt from his chair, knocking it and Haigha over in the process, and bolted to their little intruder. "Look, Hope, I knew she'd come. Grace, my dear Grace. Happy Birthday! Come, come." He herded her over to the table all in a fluster, and sat her down across from him in the permanently reserved place of honor. "Look, look. I got you tea guests. This is Haigha, he's like a rabbit--"

 

"HARE!"

 

"Right, a hare, which is like a rabbit and he's white and wearing a waistcoat. And this… is Willis. He's asleep and he's not a turtle or a kitty, but he's a lovely dormouse." Jefferson pulled the teapot off of the Dormouse and slid him closer to her.

 

"Oh, yes. That is all very nice. Are you having a tea party?"

 

"Of course! For your birthday! Do you like it?"

 

"Er, yes. Thank you."

 

"Do you hear that, Hope. Grace likes her party."

 

"I'm sorry, but who's Grace?"

 

Jefferson snorted and then slipped a cup and saucer in front of her. "You are, silly."

 

"No. I'm Alice."

 

Jefferson acted as though he hadn't heard that and kept chattering on about all the things he'd gotten for her. There were soon a pile of scones and cakes and dainties in front of her, as well as half a dozen cups of tea.

 

"My, very eager hosts, aren't you?" She addressed to Haigha who nodded and then offered her some jam and butter. "And you are?"

 

"That's the Hare. His name is Haigha."

 

Alice shook the Hare's paw. "Lovely to meet you both. I'm guessing you're the Hatter."

 

Jefferson pouted but nodded. "You know my name is Jefferson, darling."

 

"Ah… yes, of course. Listen, the Cat told me you could help me, perhaps. I'm terribly lost and--"

 

"Cat! Cat!" The Dormouse was suddenly very awake and very agitated again.

 

Jefferson and the Hare leapt and dived and swiped until they captured him in another overturned teapot.

 

"You mustn't use that c-word. He simply loathes it. Makes him very irritable." The Hare petted the outside of the pot and hummed soothingly. "There, there, Willis. Eat your berries."

 

"I'm so very sorry. Pardon me. As I was saying, I'm very lost and I would love to--"

 

"LOST?! Yes. You are lost!" Jefferson was on his feet, eyes bugging. "How did you get here? How can you be in Wonderland? You can't be here!" He twirled all six hats he'd been keeping on the table out onto the lawn. "You can't be here! You can't be here! Get one to work! Get home! Grace!"

 

The girl looked perfectly terrified when he started shaking her. That at least got him off track from the panic he'd fallen into. He stepped back across the table and sat back down.

 

"I suppose you'll be wanting your gift now. I made it especially for you."

 

Her chair fell over as she ran away, little blue skirts fluttering out behind her.

 

"She'd had very blue eyes, Hatter." Haigha informed him matter-of-factly.

 

"Yes. She did." Jefferson agreed and then turned to the empty chair next to him. "You know, Hope, I don't think that was our Grace."

 

As upsetting and scarring as that whole experience should have been, Jefferson soon forgot it and picked right back up with his perpetual tea party. He was in the middle of a heated argument several days later with the Dormouse about the amount of sugar in his tea when suddenly, with a pop, the tea party ended.


End file.
